


Peter and Morgan's 40-Year-Long-Day

by thisMarvelousLife



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisMarvelousLife/pseuds/thisMarvelousLife
Summary: Morgan is far too clever for her own good. She knows that the infinity stones can do anything, so surely they'd let her see her dad again.Peter never planned on using the stones, he just wanted to keep Morgan out of trouble.(The time-travel fix-it fic in which Tony lived his life with his kids from the future showing up at random intervals thanks to time stone shenanigans)
Relationships: Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 59
Kudos: 783





	1. Chapter 1

Morgan’s shriek died in her throat as their feet hit the ground. She dropped the Stone and it bounced, rolling to a stop on the brick sidewalk just a few feet away. She whimpered, shoving her fingers in her mouth while Peter dove for the little gem. He grabbed at it without thinking, only to pull back at the spark of pain it sent shooting up his arm. 

“Ok, ok, ok,” he whispered to himself, trying to keep calm. He tugged off his sweater, using it like an awkward oven-mit to scoop the Stone up. He hissed as he adjusted his grip on it. It still felt hot, almost scalding, even through the sweatshirt, but Peter didn’t know what else he could do. He couldn’t just leave an Infinity Stone lying on the sidewalk in the middle of… somewhere.

Peter straightened, turning to Morgan. 

“Lemme see,” he said, gently prying her fingers out of her mouth. She pouted but let him inspect them and Peter let out a sigh of relief to see that they were only a little red and puffy. It figured that the daughter of freaking Tony Stark would be able to get away so unscathed after touching such an artifact. Frankly, Peter was surprised that _he_ was keeping his grip on the Stone, even if he wasn’t handling it with his bare skin. 

Satisfied that she was unhurt, Peter took her free hand in his and started to look around himself. 

It was night, but street lights illuminated the avenue. It was a city, but not like New York; the buildings lacked the height and density of that metropolis. It was also, undoubtedly, familiar. 

“Where are we?” Morgan asked, taking in the scene as well.

_More like “_ **_when”_ ** _are we,_ Peter almost corrected, but stopped himself. He didn't want to overwhelm her too quickly. Another glance got Peter a street sign reading “Massachusetts Avenue” and a memory clicked into place.

“We’re at MIT,” Peter realized. “I mean, Boston- I mean, Cambridge.”

Mr. Stark had taken him on a tour, once. Peter remembered now. The street looked quite a bit dirtier than Peter remembered it being and the store fronts were different. As were the cars that occasionally passed them.

“Morgan,” he said slowly. “I’m gonna tell you something but you have to promise not to freak out, ok?”

“Ok,” Morgan said blithely, still looking around them curiously.

“I think we are in the past.”

“Oh, I know that,” Morgan told him, as though Peter had tried to tell her something painfully obvious.

“Wha-”

“I wanted to see my Daddy. So it took us where he is.” She said matter-of-factly. Peter clenched his jaw at the fresh reminder that Mr. Stark wasn’t _anywhere_ in their time, but his heart jumped at the realization that, if Morgan was right, then Mr. Stark _was_ here somewhere.

“We- we need to figure out what year it is,” Peter said, tamping down his anxiety at the idea of seeing him again. Truthfully, Peter didn’t know if it was such a good idea for them to interact with Tony, depending on when they were. Ideally, he really just wanted a minute to catch his breath before he tried to use the Stone to take them home again. “It’s night now, so the school buildings are probably all closed…”

There weren’t exactly on the MIT campus though. Actually, now that he knew what he was looking at, Peter recognized the strip of Mass Ave as the part that ran through Central Square. Many of the shops were dark and closed for the night, but the ones that were open didn’t look particularly inviting.

Suddenly Peter began to doubt his loose plan. He was Spider-Man, sure, but right now he was just a teenager and Morgan was just a kid and this was _definitely_ not the sort of scene they should really be in. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of where they could go and what they could do that wouldn’t be an absolute disaster, but his heart was pounding so loudly that he swore he could feel it vibrating his bones.

Or perhaps just his eardrums, Peter realized with a frown. The bass currently thumping quietly from somewhere was much louder than his own heartbeat. It was rhythmic and, like everything they’d seen so far, familiar but not quite the same as anything Peter remembered.

“I think Daddy likes this song,” Morgan said, turning to look up at him.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his mouth suddenly dry. It _did_ sound like the sort of thing Mr. Stark might have played during their time in the lab together. “Oh, hey, the Middle East is still here!”

Something loosened in Peter’s chest as he recognized the large purple sign across the street, relieved to find even one familiar landmark. The last time Peter had been there, it had been a nice, quiet cafe with a strong bohemian vibe and excellent falafel. The owners had been nice too, though that could have just been because he’d been with Mr. Stark at the time. Was it too strange to hope that the owners would still be the same whenever they were?

Peter held tight to Morgan’s hand as they crossed the street and pushed through a small throng of people clustered on the sidewalk outside the cafe. He fought the urge to cover his mouth and nose - more than a few of them had cigarettes dangling from their mouths - and quickly ushered Morgan inside. 

The smell was better in here - the cigarette smoke not quite as thick and it mixed with the smell of garlic and tahini (and body odor, and cooking oil, and booze, but he’d take what he could get). It was still fairly crowded, given that Peter could only assume it was late at night, and he could feel the music vibrating through the floor under his feet. 

Several heads glanced up at their entrance, raising more than a few eyebrows. 

“Um,” Peter stammered to no one in particular. From the music floating up from the basement, to the varied crowd outside, to the bar he’d somehow never noticed at one end of the restaurant, the vibe was distinctly _not_ what he remembered from the mid 2010’s. It was a lot more punk. And rock. And 80’s, if people’s hair was anything to go by. “Sorry- we’re just looking for--”

“Daddy!” Morgan shrieked, letting go of Peter’s hand and making a beeline for one of the booths. Before Peter could stop her, Morgan had flung herself at the legs of... someone. 

The young man turned to look at her and Peter felt his heart leap into his throat.

Peter had seen pictures of Tony when he was younger, of course, but SI had done a decent job of burying most of Tony’s scandals from before he’d become CEO. He looked younger now than Peter had ever seen him - barely older than Peter. He didn’t even have the perpetual hint of five o’clock shadow coloring his jaw yet. At any rate, he looked far too young to be as ridiculously drunk as he obviously was. 

Luckily, neither he nor the girls he’d been trying to talk to seemed to have heard Morgan’s outburst. She buried her face in Tony’s knees as Peter rushed over to them.

“Wha-?” Tony slurred, peering down at the kid in bewilderment. God, he really was young. Peter tried to remember his trivia about Mr. Stark’s past. He’d been very young when he attended MIT, Peter knew that much. He’d still been a teenager when he graduated, so they really _were_ about the same age. The thought was too mind boggling for Peter to hold onto for long.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter breathed, reaching for Morgan, but she shied away from him, clinging to Tony’s legs. 

“Do you know these kids, Tony?” One of the girls in the booth asked. She seemed like the most sober of the bunch. Tony started to shake his head ‘no’, but another girl had already drawn her own conclusions.

“Aw, are they your siblings? That’s so cute,” she cooed. Peter didn’t have to scan the group of friends to know that this one was clearly the most drunk. Tony was famous and famously an only child. “I _love_ the respons’bl big brother types, y’know?”

How she’d decided that _kids_ showing up at a scene like this lead to ‘ _responsible’_ , Peter had no idea and he was about to say as much when Tony slung an arm over Peter’s shoulders, drawing him in with a sloppy grin. 

Peter could _smell_ the alcohol on him and tried not to recoil. Mr. Stark was never one to get emotional with Peter, but he’d been upfront about no longer storing alcohol in the house. By the time he and Peter had fought together on Titan, Peter knew that Mr. Stark had been completely sober for at least a year, and had been trying to be for much longer. If his appearance wasn’t enough, the stench was a sharp reminder that this _wasn’t_ Mr. Stark, or Morgan’s dad - and that he wouldn’t be for a long time.

Tony seemed oblivious to his discomfort, preening at the girls attention.

“What can I say? Just- kids, y’know? Gotta love ‘em.” He rambled, winking at the girl who’d praised him. The more sober of the two seemed a bit more suspicious.

“You guys come to check on your ‘big brother’?” She asked skeptically. “Isn’t it a bit past your bedtime?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony echoed. “What are you guys doin’ here?”

“We’re- uh- looking for… you.” Peter said haltingly, not expecting to have Tony’s attention so suddenly. Tony’s eyes finally narrowed. 

“Y’know what? Excuse me, ladies, I gotta make sure these tikes get back to bed. I’ll be right back.” He promised. The mirth had drained from his voice and he withdrew his arm from Peter’s shoulder. He peeled Morgan off his leg and ushered them to an empty spot at a nearby table. The room was so loud that there wasn’t much risk of being overheard.

Tony dropped into a chair, setting his drink down on the table beside him with a thunk, but he didn’t look disturbed or even surprised when Peter remained standing. 

“Kay, whaddya want?” Tony scowled. Beside him, Morgan looked between them in confusion. Her chin had started wobbling the moment Tony pushed her away and she seemed to only just be holding it together now. “Who are you? What’re you doing here? And why’s your hand wrapped up in a sweater?”

Peter opened his mouth and realized he had no idea what to say. Beside him, Morgan whimpered.

“ _Daddy_ ,” she whined. She was a brilliant child, Peter knew. Academically, she was already following in Tony’s footsteps. But emotionally, she was _still_ only four. Peter couldn’t imagine how it would have felt to be rejected by his own parents at that age. 

“Really? _That’s_ your angle?” Tony lifted his drink, slurping in a way that was somehow both obnoxious and dismissive. 

“You really don’t…” Peter said softly. He knew, of course, logically, that there was no way Tony would know her. How could he feel a connection with someone who wouldn’t be born for another thirty plus years? But his heart still broke for Morgan. 

“You’re buyin’ this too?” Tony snorted. “Or- wait, I get it, you’re in on it. How’s that work? I _know_ I’m not _your_ dad.”

“Daddy, _please_ ,” Morgan said, her voice high and wobbling. Tony looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. She did look like him. Everyone always said so. And Tony seemed somewhat transfixed by her, just drunk enough to begin to consider the possibility.

“You both think I’m…” Tony muttered, frowning. Really, if he was drunk enough to consider it, Peter guessed he might be drunk enough not to remember this in the morning. Morgan looked up at Peter pleadingly, like she really believed that Peter could somehow convince him. 

“Yeah,” Peter said softly. He knew Tony wouldn’t believe him, but he couldn’t stand to disappoint Morgan again. 

Tony’s face drained.

“How old are you?” He asked. Peter could see his eyes sliding off Morgan, unable to quite focus them. Morgan drew close to Peter’s leg, half hiding behind it, suddenly shy. 

“Four an’ a half,” she said quietly. 

Peter watched the emotions flit across Tony’s face. The man- the _boy-_ was too drunk to try to mask them: confusion, relief, realization, anger, disgust… Tony shook his head, lip curled.

“Obi tol’ me they’d start comin’ after me,” Tony slurred, scowling into his drink. “Thought they’d at least try t’be smart about it. ‘M not stupid, y’know. I know how to count.”

“Daddy…” Morgan whispered. Peter wanted to put his hands over her ears, sure that this was not a side of Tony that he’d ever want her to hear, but he was almost too stunned. 

“I’m _not_ your dad!” Tony slammed his glass on the table with a louder bang than he may have intended, given the way even he jumped at the noise. “Unless you’re saying I knocked someone up when I was _twelve._ ”

Morgan shrunk back. Peter didn’t have to look to know that she would be tearing up. Hell, Peter felt a lump rising in his throat.

“We should go,” Peter said, tearing his gaze away to look at his shoes. “This was a mistake.”

“No, shit,” Tony snapped. “Go on. Go tell your “mom” or whoever that you ain’t getting _shit_ from me. An’ at least get her story straight b’fore she tries t’ send her kid out to fuckin’ lie for her.``

“Mommy doesn’t lie,” Morgan said tearfully.

“S _u_ re,” Tony drawled, drawing out the word as long as he could and rolling his eyes. He seemed drawn by the motion, and tilted dangerously in his seat before he caught himself and tugged himself upright. “Pookie! Pooooks! Honey-bear. There you are.”

Peter swiveled his head, confused by the sudden shift in Tony’s tone and barely stifled a gasp.

“Colonel Rhodes!” He said at the same time that Morgan gasped, “Uncle Rhodey!”

Rhodes stopped his approach a few feet away, cocking his head in confusion. Peter instantly started to berate himself. This wasn’t _their_ Rhodes. He wasn’t a Colonel yet, or anybody’s uncle. He was so young that he almost looked like a completely different person from the Rhodes they knew, but it was definitely him. He walked the same way, raised his eyebrows the same way, jerked his chin the same way as his eyes darted between them and Tony.

“Uh… Tones?” He asked. Tony let his head fall to the table, reaching a hand toward Rhodes with a grabby motion.

“Rhooodey-” he whined, “They were right. Obi was right. The freakin’ gold diggers are comin’ for me.”

Rhodes folded his arms. He didn’t look particularly convinced by Tony’s outburst, but he also seemed suspicious of Peter and Morgan. 

“Is that true?” He asked them, not looking the least bit surprised when Peter and Morgan both shook their heads emphatically. 

“We’re not here for money,” Peter said earnestly. Tony snorted, lifting his head up a few inches from the table.

“Oh, yeah? What’re you here for then?” 

Peter paused, realizing how absolutely crazy their entire situation sounded.

“Daddy,” Morgan said again, looking up at Rhodes with her huge dark eyes. Tony threw up his hands while Peter wrapped his free hand around her shoulders.

“We’re just looking for her dad,” Peter said. The truth was always the best cover story anyway. “We need to figure out how to get home.”

Rhodes’ face softened and he unfolded his arms with a long sigh. 

“I’ll help you,” he promised, “It’s too late for you kids to be wandering around alone like this. Lemme just get Tony in a cab and I’ll see if we can find you a phone booth or something. Is there someone you can call?”

Peter shrugged. He had May’s phone number memorized, but he knew that she didn’t have a cell phone in the late 80’s and he didn’t think this explanation would do much to help them anyway. Even if Peter _had_ had the right number, he didn’t know if May and Ben had even met yet. They certainly didn’t have a nephew, that much was certain.

“Ok, just- sit tight,” Rhodes said with a frown as he slowly began to coax Tony up from his seat with no small amount of whining. Peter nodded. He just wanted to leave. He didn’t want himself or Morgan to see any more of this version of Tony. He wanted…

Pain surged in Peter’s hand as Tony and Rhodes disappeared out the door. Morgan gasped, grabbing tightly to his free arm as Peter curled his fist tighter around the Stone, trying not to drop it as it burned hot in his hand. The same roller coaster rush began building in Peter’s stomach and this time, Peter didn’t try to fight it. He was tired of this place.

\--

This time, Peter’s feet his soft pine needles and he sagged to his knees with Morgan beside him. She let go of his hand and stood up, looking around.

“Peter,” she said, though Peter barely heard her. It felt like that one time his webs had hit a telephone wire and his whole suit had shorted out, the way the energy of the Stone kept racing up and down his arm. He clenched his teeth, not wanting to alarm Morgan any more than she already must be, and was suddenly glad that the sweatshirt hid his hand where it still clutched the Stone. 

“Mm?” He grunted.

“My house is gone.”

Peter looked up, first at Morgan and then at the surrounding clearing. Morgan stared back with impossibly round eyes. Now that she had said so, Peter realized that the scene _was_ familiar. There was the shoreline of the lake, and the pine scent thick in the air… but no house. Peter felt sure this was the right spot, but the clearing was empty. Morgan sat down hard on the ground.

“My house is gone,” she said again, balefully, “And- and- daddy didn’t know me- and-”

Peter was not shocked when she finally burst into tears. 

“Oh, Morgan, come here.” Peter beckoned her with his free arm and she planted herself in his lap, still sobbing. She let him wrap his arm around her and rock them back and forth.

“I just wanted to see him,” she sobbed.

“I know. Me too,” Peter admitted. His hand hurt and he had no idea when they were and Tony’s loss was still so fresh. He wished that there was someone else here: May, or Pepper, or anyone who could take control of the situation and tell them everything would be fine. But it was just the two of them and Peter was all the adult Morgan had.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he promised, “Let’s just… rest a little and then we’ll figure out how to get home.”

\---

An alarm rent the air in the cabin. Pepper reached out to grab May’s arm from where they sat beside each other on the couch. Carol’s fist burst into flame, Clint and Sam summoned firearms from apparent thin air, Steve reached for his shield, and all in all, it was a wonder that no one threw any punches considering the number of traumatized warriors that were gathered in the living room. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.-” Pepper started. Not today. She couldn’t do this today of all days. They were supposed to be safe now, that was the entire point. 

“Apologies, Mrs. Potts,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said from somewhere near the ceiling, shutting the blaring alarm down immediately. “I thought it would be prudent to inform you that Miss Morgan is currently attempting to open the containment unit for the Stones.”

“ _Shit._ ” Pepper swore, drawing raised eyebrows from Happy and Rhodes. “Morgan.”

“I am warning Miss Morgan against her current course of action,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. added, sounding about as nervous as an AI was able to. “Ah- it seems she was able to open the container.”

“ _How?_ ” Steve demanded.

“Miss Morgan is very precocious,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

The room burst into a flurry of motion as every adult rushed to the room where the briefcase had been stored. All the air seemed to have left Pepper’s lungs. Morgan had been gone for mere _minutes_. How could she have possibly gotten into so much trouble in such little time? 

_Tony_. This curious, reckless streak was definitely from him, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what a little girl like Morgan might want with supernatural artifacts capable of granting any wish in the world.

“Miss Morgan is no longer on the premises.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said suddenly as they rounded on the door. 

“What? Is she alright?” May asked tentatively, craning her neck, clearly unsure where to look or how to address F.R.I.D.A.Y.. 

“Unfortunately, Miss Morgan is outside the range of my scanners.”

Pepper threw open the door, though she already knew what she would find.

The room was just as barren as she’d known it would be and she suddenly felt light headed, like the room was threatening to tilt sideways and spill her onto the floor. She couldn’t prepare for this. She couldn’t _process_ this. 

“Pepper, _breathe_ ,” someone said and she turned to see half a dozen pairs of eyes watching her warily. 

Pepper was used to scrutiny. A woman didn’t _stay_ in a position like hers if she couldn’t handle the scrutiny. But that usually came from the paparazzi, the internet gossip mongers, the competitors, the office politicals - it wasn’t from her family and friends. She froze to have them all staring at her now. 

She’d known she was going to lose Tony. Perhaps not when she would, or how she would, but she knew him too well to think she’d ever get to keep him for very long. She mourned, but she was prepared for it. But _Morgan…_ Their baby, her last piece of Tony, the kid she’d sworn she would never have- nothing could have prepared her for the gaping hole of her terror at the thought of losing her. 

She wondered distantly if they expected her to cry. She couldn’t, she’d already cried too much in the last few weeks, she didn’t have any left in her. Pepper took a deep breath. She gave herself exactly _five_ seconds to feel the fear and desolation before she straightened her shoulders. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., what happened? Where did she go?” Pepper asked sternly. If Morgan was hurt or had been killed, F.R.I.D.A.Y.would have informed her. Right now, she was just… lost. Pepper felt her mind threatening to tumble apart with the possibilities: what if the Space Stone had taken her somewhere uninhabitable, to the bottom of the sea or the heart of a volcano or the black void of space that had terrified Tony so badly? What if the Soul Stone had whisked her away to that empty twilight realm she’d heard the resurrected whisper about?

Rather than answer, F.R.I.D.A.Y. opened a viewing screen in the air before them and the security footage from mere moments ago flickered to life.

“ _Peter!_ ” Beside her, May clapped a hand to her mouth. Happy reached to squeeze her shoulder as they watched. 

On the screen, Peter looked nervously around the room before hurrying after Morgan. His mouth moved silently as he gestured, beckoning Morgan away from the electronic lock on the briefcase. Morgan ignored him, pausing only when Peter tried to physically pull her away from the case. She shouted something, flailing. Her face suddenly brightened, the same moment that Peter’s froze, as the lock fell away. The Stones glowed so brightly on the recording that they appeared as nothing more than a blur of light on the screen. Morgan wriggled easily from Peter’s grasp, reaching into the glow. In an instant, Peter was on her again, wrapping an arm around her waist. Before he could pull them away, the pair vanished in a quick flash of light. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y.silently withdrew the screen. The briefcase containing the Infinity Stones sat exactly where it had been, the top still thrown carelessly open. And there, plain as day, the Time Stone was missing.

\--

Tony was still drunk the next time Peter and Morgan found him. 

The Stone had whisked them away from the clearing in the woods sooner than Peter would have liked, dropping them unceremoniously in an empty office.

Well, empty of people, anyway. The room was stacked with cardboard boxes, the bookshelves still in the midst of being cleared (or maybe set up?) and loose papers were strewn over the heavy wooden desk. 

Even half packed, Peter could tell it was a pretty grand room: the ceilings were tall, the light fixture ornate, and the carpet plush under their feet. A glance out the window revealed a wintery copse of woods beyond a stretch of dead yellow lawn. 

“Do you know where we are?” Peter asked, but Morgan only shook her head. 

“Who’s there?” A voice called suddenly, and Peter’s heart sank. “‘M warning you, if you’ve got a fucking camera…”

Tony flung open the door to the office, a fire poker raised like a club in one hand. At the sight of the kids, he frowned and let his arm fall, swaying slightly where he stood.

It was a relief to see him looking a little older at least. It had been too weird thinking they were almost the same age before. Tony’s signature facial hair was just starting to take on its usual shape, though it was still patchy enough that Peter didn’t think Tony could be _much_ older than last time. He wore a crumpled black suit, but the tie was gone and Tony stood in his socks in the doorway.

“The fuck are you?” He mumbled, “How’d you get in here? Said no more people…”

This time, Morgan kept her mouth clamped shut. Peter could feel her tight grip on his jeans and the sudden urge to smack Tony rose in Peter’s chest. Logically, he knew that Tony didn’t know who she was, but the Mr. Stark that Peter knew would have _encouraged_ Peter to slap him if he ever let Morgan see him like this.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter said tentatively. 

“ _Don’_ call me that!” The effect was instantaneous. Tony’s face darkened. He threw the poker aside, not seeming to care the way it cracked the plaster of the wall or the way the crash made both he and Morgan jump. “I’m _not_ Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark was-- Mr. Stark was--”

“But- Mr.--”

“ _No._ ” Tony barked, swaying dangerously on the spot. His eyes were red, Peter realized. As though he’d been crying. Morgan hid her face against Peter’s knee. From the shake of her shoulders, Peter guessed that she’d started to cry again too. He wondered if Tony had _ever_ yelled at her before. Peter had been reprimanded by Mr. Stark before, but not like this: drunk and volatile. 

Peter shut his mouth, wishing the Stone would take them away from this moment. The Stone, however, did not oblige.

“Wait, I know you,” Tony said slowly, scowling. His lip threatened to curl into a sneer that Peter knew was usually reserved for when Tony was forced to discuss the slimiest politicians. “You’re the firs’ ones- the first ones tryin’ to pretend to be my kid. How the _fuck_ ’d you get in here?”

“I’m not your kid,” Peter said softly. Tony threw up his arms in exasperation with a dramatic, _oh,_ **_now_ ** _he says it_ , before Peter set his jaw stubbornly. “ _She_ is.”

Tony glared in Morgan’s direction. She peered out at him, hopeful despite herself. He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ in a way that was at once achingly familiar and still alien. 

“Well, she is,” Peter mumbled to himself, though apparently not quietly enough.

“No, she’s not!” Tony snarled. “I am _never_ having kids! Never! Even is she was some mistake from a one-time fuck, that doesn’t make me her dad!”

Morgan shuddered against Peter’s leg. Fury made Peter feel cold. Even if that’s what Tony really thought, even if Morgan wasn’t his daughter, he shouldn’t say stuff like that to a kid.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” He told him, gritting his teeth. 

“Is that a _threat_?”

“No,” Peter stuck out his chin. “It’s a fact.”

\--

“Just remember,” Bruce said for the thousandth time, “You need to retrieve more Pym particles first and _then_ you can begin searching for them.”

“Got it,” Steve answered, also for the _thousandth_ time. There was a vein in his jaw that had begun to twitch. 

There had been some argument about who would try to retrieve the children, but there was no doubt that the attempt would be made (if for no other reason than that the Time Stone needed to be collected). But really, what else could they have done? There was no doubt that Tony had been thinking about his kids when he made his final sacrifice. There was no way they could have left them adrift in time after everything Tony had given up to keep them safe.

Steve had won the right to search for them fairly easily - they’d already agreed to let him return the Stones to their rightful places. This was really just an extension of that mission, though now with even more at stake than ever.

Standing beside the miniature time-machine, Pepper clutched May’s arm. Of the two, May was the more obviously emotional, with her red rimmed eyes and trembling jaw, but Steve knew that Pepper was not as unaffected as she tried to appear. Somehow, Pepper’s stoicism was the worse of the two to watch. The woman had just lost her husband and now might lose her only child. What was it costing her to keep herself together? And who was the performance for?

“I’ll bring them back,” Steve promised the women. Pepper gave him a stiff nod, almost a salute. 

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“On the count of five… four… three… two-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Middle East is a restaurant and nightclub in Cambridge (the restaurant is on the street level and the music venue is downstairs). They're a Cambridge landmark for sure and it's been there since the 70's. They started booking rock bands in 1987.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussions of schizophrenia/some ableist attitudes and more of Tony's alcoholism

Peter’s eyes were beginning to water with the pain creeping up his arm. Part of him wanted to try to readjust his grip on the Stone, but he was too scared of losing it to try. What if someone saw it, or it somehow fell through his fingers? Peter clutched the Stone a little tighter at the thought, despite the pain.

The new scene was excruciatingly loud, music thumping through an enormous crowd of people. This time around, however, the music was distinctly _not_ to Tony’s taste, with a definite radio top-40 feel to it. Lights strobed, people mulled around cocktail tables, and (as seemed to always be the case), liquor flowed. Or, at least, Peter assumed it did from the smell and the occasional stumble from the guests.

Peter flinched at the volume and the flashing lights. Morgan clung to him as he stumbled back, flailing for a door and falling through one moments later purely by chance. 

The door let them out into a brightly lit hallway, still thronged with people, and Peter put a hand to his eyes at the sudden brightness. His head was already buzzing and he knew that if he couldn’t get this under control in the next few minutes, he’d be at the mercy of his own super-heightened over-stimulated sense. 

It was Morgan who managed to drag him in the direction of a small alcove. Peter didn’t know how she knew to help him or if she was just as overwhelmed as he was, but Peter pushed his back to the wall and sunk to sit on the plush carpet as soon as they weren’t in danger of being trampled by the crowd. Morgan instantly glued herself to Peter’s side, resting her head on his shoulder while Peter pressed the heel of his free hand against his eyes. 

He could still hear the music out here, but at least it was dampened by the walls between them now. He could still smell every person’s wine-breath and stale cologne as they passed, but the crush of human body odor wasn’t so bad. 

“Are you ok?” Morgan asked. Peter nodded, only a little shaky.

“Yeah. Just a little loud,” he admitted. Morgan stood up so she was a little taller than him and pressed her small hands over Peter’s ears, her face serious. It didn’t do much, but the kindness of the gesture made Peter smile regardless. “Thanks.”

She was quiet for a minute until she got bored of watching Peter recover himself, and dropped her hands with a sigh.

“Why has Daddy been so mean every time?” She asked. “Daddy isn’t mean.”

“No, he isn’t,” Peter agreed quickly. “He just…”

Peter wasn’t sure exactly what to say. He didn’t know how much Tony and Pepper had told her or how much they would be comfortable with Peter explaining. From Morgan’s obvious confusion, Peter suspected that she knew very little of her father’s tangled past. 

“He had a lot of learning to do before he could become your dad,” Peter said finally. “But he will get there. I promise.”

Morgan eyed him suspiciously for a moment before she was suddenly distracted by one of the passersby. She grabbed onto his sleeve in an instant.

“Look! There’s Happy!” She nearly shrieked. 

“I’m not sure if we should- Morgan, you know he doesn’t know who we are yet,” Peter said, but Morgan looked up at him insistently with those big dark doe eyes and Peter relented. If he didn’t give in, she might just run off again, and what would happen to her if they weren’t together and the Stone took him away without her?

“Ok, but you need to get on my back,” Peter said. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

“Hurry _up_!” Morgan insisted as she clambered quickly onto Peter’s back. If Peter had been anyone else, it might have been difficult to carry her with only one arm. As it was, Peter’s strength made it easy to stand up even with her slight extra weight. “Go! Go! Go!”

Peter ducked back into the hallway, hurrying in the direction she pointed. 

Now that he could open his eyes enough to actually see his surroundings, Peter was impressed and more than a little intimidated by the grandeur of it all. The guests, he noticed now, were all dressed very nicely, though everyone looked to be having too good a time for it to be a black-tie event. The hallway and subsequent block of elevators looked a bit like the fancy hotel Mr. Stark had booked for them for their brief soiree in Berlin, though Peter could tell it wasn’t the same place. 

Morgan pointed urgently toward the group waiting to board the next elevator. Peter did not immediately recognize Happy, and when he did, he almost laughed. His hair was longer than Peter had ever seen it, his beard looked like he was trying to copy Guy Fieri, and-- was that _earring?_

“Happy!” Morgan squealed, clambering up Peter like a little monkey so she sat on Peter’s shoulders. 

Peter watched this younger Happy swivel his head with a frown, his eyes pausing on them only to move on when he didn’t recognize them. Behind Happy, his arm slung around a pretty woman with brown hair, was Tony. Trying to see what had caught his body guard’s attention, Tony’s eyes locked on them in an instant and he frowned deeply.

He whispered something to the woman he was with that made her giggle before he stepped away from his party and headed toward them. He brushed aside Happy’s confused look and more than one fan trying to get his attention on his way toward them. Even at this distance, Peter could see that his expression was determined but decidedly unhappy.

“Uh-oh,” Morgan said softly. Peter agreed. This still wasn’t _their_ Tony Stark, but it seemed both of them had seen his particular look on Tony’s face before. Usually preceding a long scolding.

It was the most like himself that they’d seen Tony yet. His signature facial hair was finally in place, as was a pair of tinted glasses, but his hair was still entirely dark and Peter didn’t think _his_ Mr. Stark would ever be caught dead in such a dated suit. Although, given the people around them, Tony’s suit was probably the height of fashion at the moment.

Tony jerked his head at them to follow, leading them right back to the same alcove they’d just abandoned. His steps were steady, but this close, Peter could still smell the alcohol on him. Somehow, they’d found Tony drunk a _third_ time in a row. This time, however, he did not slur his words.

“Are you stalking me?” He asked flatly, folding his arms. 

“Not on purpose,” Peter looked away despite himself.

“Not on…” Tony echoed with a scowl. He shook his head, glancing down at his wrist watch. “Ok, since you don’t seem to take no for an answer, you’ve got ninety second of my time, starting… now. Who are you?”

“My name is Peter,” Peter said with a shrug. “This is Morgan.”

Morgan’s grip on Peter's hair tightened a little when he said her name. 

“Hi, Daddy,” she said quietly.

“I’m not your-” Tony bit off his next words, lifting his glasses to press an exasperated hand to his eyes. “Look, is it money? You want money? Because I’m not the channel to go through for this sort of thing, there’s a whole shit load of paper work and paternity testing and legal issues- you can’t just show up and expect me to do something about it and, I gotta tell you, you are _not_ the first people to try this. Well, you sort of were the first, I guess, but you weren’t the last, and I gotta say, _none_ of them have had a leg to stand on so far so I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“We’re not here for your _money_ ,” Peter wrinkled his nose, but a part of him pitied this Tony. It was disheartening that the man couldn’t seem to think of a single reason that kids might want to talk to him besides money. Or, for anyone to talk to him, for that matter. 

“Okay,” Tony drawled, clearly disbelieving. “What _do_ you want?”

“Honestly? I’d kinda like to get home now.” Peter said. And wasn’t that just the biggest oversimplification in the world?

“What’re you hanging around me for then? Go find a police officer or the concierge or, shit, literally _anyone_ else!” Tony gestured at the crowd around them, clearly growing frustrated.

“Peter, you should tell him,” Morgan said with another little tug to his hair. “Mommy said I should always tell her or Daddy if something was wrong.”

“Tell me what?” Tony scowled. Peter sighed. Tony wasn’t going to believe them no matter what they said and besides that, they would probably get whisked away in a minute. 

“We’re lost.” Peter told him finally. “But the police can’t take us home because our home doesn’t exist yet. We’re from the future.”

Peter finished with a little shrug, sullen despite himself. Tony stared at them blankly for a moment before clapping his hands together.

“Well, would you look at that, your ninety seconds are up,” He said briskly. Then, he turned on his heel and left, shaking his head disparagingly. 

“At least he didn’t yell this time,” Morgan said, just as the Stone in his hand began to burn again.

\--

“Daddy, how come you are _always_ sick when we see you?” Was the first thing out of Morgan’s mouth when they re-materialized again. 

“He’s not sick, Morgan,” Peter said through gritted teeth, grabbing at his elbow as though he could stop the pain from climbing any higher up his arm if he just held on tightly enough.

They had appeared in a lab, which was obviously Tony’s, but wasn’t one that Peter had seen before. From the lack of windows and the faint musty smell, Peter guessed it was in a basement somewhere. 

“Well, I mean, it is an illness, but he’s just…”

“ _Drunk._ ” Tony said when Peter hesitated. 

“Mr. Stark-” Peter started to protest, still unsure about discussing Tony’s alcoholism with his _four-year-old_ , but Morgan was distracted before Peter had much time to worry.

“DUM-E!” She shrieked, beginning to wriggle on Peter’s shoulders. The crane of the robot in question swiveled toward her inquisitively. Peter set her on the ground and Morgan raced to the robot and flung her arms around its base while it beeped as though in confusion. 

Peter couldn’t help a grin of his own as he followed, patting DUM-E’s crane affectionately, which only served to increase the frantic beeping. 

“Where’s U? And Butterfingers?” Peter asked without thinking.

“Who?”

“Oh. Um. No one. Never mind.”

Tony barely reacted, watching them with detached interest. After a few seconds of this, Peter looked back at Tony with a little frown. 

“You’re ok with letting us touch your stuff?” He asked. Tony shrugged, slouching over the metal table he was currently sitting at.

“Eh, it doesn’ matter. None of you are real anyway.”

“Hey! I’m real!” Peter said indignantly. Tony shook his head.

“Nuh-uh, see I just saw this new movie, right?” Tony propped his chin in one hand. He was worse off than the last time they’d seen him at the party. His eyes weren’t focusing the way they ought to. “There’s this guy and he- well, it doesn’ matter. Basically he figures out he’s crazy ‘cuz he realizes the little girl in his hallucinations never ages and I’m like, hmmmm, where’ve I seen that before, huh?”

“Are you talking about that super old movie? About the schizophrenic guy?” Peter tilted his head.

“Yep,” Tony said, popping the ‘p’ in that way that was painfully familiar. 

“Mr. Stark, I’m pretty sure you aren’t schizophrenic.”

“Sounds like somethin’ a hallucination would say!” Tony accused, but Peter could see that his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Excuse me for saying it, Mr. Stark, but I know you’ve got a lot of problems and I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of them. For one thing, it would be pretty hard to hide from the team. Not to mention Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“Uh- never mind,” Peter said again quickly, but Tony hardly seemed to care. “Mr. Stark, we aren't staying the same age because we're hallucinations, it's because time isn’t passing for us. I told you, we’re from the future, remember?”

“Sounds like something a hallucination would say,” Tony grumbled again, but he hadn’t told Peter to shut up yet, which was encouraging.

“Well, we’re basically time-jumping around, so the last time we saw you was like two minutes ago for us, and not… how long has it been for you?”

“Bout a year.” Tony grumbled. “Pretty close together for you, actually.”

“Sorry,” Peter said without thinking. “I haven’t figured out how to control it yet.”

“So, tell me, dear hallucination, how exactly are you accomplishing time travel?” Tony asked with a resigned sigh, leaning back in his chair. 

“Uh, magic.” Peter admitted.

That got a bark of laughter out of Tony, making Morgan look back at them. Her expression was so hopeful, so excited to see a version of her father that wasn’t mired in anger, that Peter’s heart clenched in his chest. 

"No, seriously!" Peter held up his sweater-wrapped hand. “Crazy powerful magic space rock."

"That's the best explanation my brain can come up with?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Wasn't enough to hallucinate my kids from the future, but I couldn't even think of a decent explanation for it?"

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. You're not supposed to figure out time travel for like another twenty years or something. Wait- did you just call us your kids?”

“That’s what you’ve been saying, isn’t it?” Tony looked resigned as he said it. He really must not believe they were real, Peter thought. There was no way he would be this calm if he thought they were real.

“Well, yeah, Morgan is, but…” Peter flushed at the thought. He’d never gotten the chance to really express how grateful he was to Mr. Stark, how much he appreciated everything he did (and how much giddy delight it had brought him the first time he’d met Colonel Rhodes and the man had accused him of being Tony’s secret son). Tony sat up a little straighter in his chair, squinting at Peter intently. 

He stared so long that Peter started to squirm: unsure what Tony was looking for but hoping that he’d find it in Peter’s befuddled face. 

“You sure you’re not my kid?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty sure,” Peter said quickly. “I mean, I’ve never had a paternity test or anything, and I mean, actually I can’t really let anyone look at my blood anymore, that would be bad, but, uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d remember-- that.”

“So who are you?” Tony asked.

“I’m- uh-” Peter’s mind drew a blank, and blurted out the next thing that came to mind without thinking. “I’m Spider-Man.”

Tony dissolved into hysterics as Peter hurried to grab Morgan before they vanished again.

\--

Generally speaking, the kids appeared so infrequently that Tony was able to forget about them most of the time. So far, he’d only seen them once every six or seven years. Last time had been an exception, seeing them in his home only a year after he’d seen them in Bern. Maybe whatever was causing him to see them was getting worse. Maybe it was time to do something about it instead of just hoping the problem would go away.

Despite what he told his friends (or rather, his single real friend), Tony _did_ know that his lifestyle was unsustainable. Sooner or later he’d crash and burn in a way that wasn’t so easy to walk away from.

The question was what - if anything - _could_ Tony do about it. He refused to see a shrink. Hard pass. The world was already used to picking his life apart from a distance, courtesy of the unending media circus; he couldn’t stand the idea of another person knowing any more about him. And no matter what nondisclosure agreements a prospective therapist might sign, Tony didn’t trust anyone to keep their mouth shut when faced with the kind of cash several outlets were willing to dish out just to hear titillating new details about Tony’s failures.

Unwilling to speak to anyone about what he’d seen, Tony had looked into other ways of trying to determine if he was actually nuts, but apparently schizophrenia didn’t show up on an MRI or anything. 

But year passed without seeing them, and then another, and Tony began to relax. Or, relax as well as could be expected for a ~~Depressed alcoholic potentially crazy~~ billionaire playboy etc, etc. 

Then, Pepper walked into his life. Tony had been sleeping at his desk, actually at Stark Industries for once, drooling on the priceless mahogany, when the head of HR opened the door. 

“Mr. Stark, I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Virginia Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” Pepper said, extending a hand and looking for all the world like she definitely had not seen her new boss making an ass out of himself on the first day. 

Unfortunately, Tony liked her quite a bit. She was painfully competent, patient, and (most important to Tony) discreet. Unlike other assistants he'd had, she didn’t laugh at his awful jokes or flatter his outrageous outfits. But every so often he managed to get a genuine smile out of her and he felt proud of himself on the rare occasion that it happened. 

The fact that she was _gorgeous_ didn’t hurt either. Tony was (unfortunately) not above sleeping with his employees and he had thought about it. He'd thought about it _a lot_. He was pretty sure Pepper would turn him down if he propositioned her, but rejection was never the reason he held back. It was more embarrassing than that. 

Before the year was out, Tony found that he relied on Pepper quite heavily. She and J.A.R.V.I.S. were the backbone that kept Tony’s life from spiraling out of control. If he hooked up with her and then she left, Tony knew that he and the company would be in shambles within a few weeks. And that was the optimistic estimate. No, Pepper was too important to risk for something as petty as sex.

It nagged at him, truthfully. She felt _important_. Tony knew that she was - besides the immense responsibility she carried with effortless grace, Tony did think she was pretty remarkable - but it was something more than that.

_“For one thing, it would be pretty hard to hide from the team. Not to mention Pepper.”_

It could be a coincidence. Most likely, Tony thought, he was probably remembering that last hallucination wrong. Humans were prone to making up connections where there were none. That's why people latched onto horoscopes and alien conspiracy theories so easily. It would be normal to make up that kind of information, to imagine that he’d known that Pepper would step into his life before she ever arrived.

But he couldn’t be entirely sure and it _bothered_ him. 

Despite himself, Tony began to wonder. He had always assumed that the two children were hallucinations, partially because they never seemed to age, but also because they only seemed to appear when he was drunk and he didn’t know if anyone else had ever seen them. If they weren’t real, Tony reasoned, then no one else would be able to see them. But, on the slim, tiny, impossible chance that they _were_ … Tony had to know.

The problem plagued him for months. 

He thought about it while he worked, while he drank, while Obi shuttled him back and forth across the country to attend this or that conference or meeting. There were two problems: the first was finding someone who could corroborate his story, and the second was trusting them enough to ask if they had seen the kids or not. 

The first was difficult enough. Rhodey might have seen the kids the first time, when Tony was still at MIT, but that was almost twenty years ago now. The second time, Tony had been alone in his parents’ estate in the Hamptons, shortly before he sold it and never looked back. Happy might have been able to see them that night in Bern, but that too was a few years ago now and it had been so crowded that Happy might not have noticed them even if they _were_ there. And the last time, Tony had been alone again in his lab in Malibu.

Or, Tony realized with a jolt, _almost_ alone.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” he gasped, “Pull up the security footage for the lab from the last five years.”

“Of course, Sir.” Instantly _hundreds_ of thumbnails appeared on the console in front of him, each playing out a different day in the lab. 

“Show me only footage with another person besides myself,” Tony amended. That was _far_ too much data to comb through. “Actually, show me footage of myself _and_ another person.”

That should narrow it down. Tony rarely let anyone into his lab and rarely for more than a few minutes. As he suspected, the number of thumbnails shrunk drastically, leaving less than a hundred instances in the last five years.

“Get rid of anything from the last three years,” he added. No point in looking through it. He knew he hadn’t seen them that recently even if he couldn’t remember the exact date of their last visit. “Great. Now only footage with me and at least _two_ other people.”

Unsurprisingly, Tony was left with less than a dozen options. Most were of people crossing paths on their way in and out of seeing him, and those people were almost exclusively some combination of Pepper, Obi, and Rhodey. 

It was easy, in fact, to spot the outlier. Tony watched in mute disbelief as he tapped the thumbnail to enlarge it and the grainy picture showed the two children rushing to greet DUM-E like an old friend. He paused the video to stare at it. 

“Well, what d’ya know?” He murmured. He knew he should feel relieved. Hallucinations didn’t show up on video. He now had quantifiable proof of his own sanity, but somehow finding out the truth only made things more complicated. He could barely even begin to process the ramifications of such a thing. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S., run facial recognition on the people in this video,” He said. “Then copy it to our private server and delete it from the public one.”

“I have a match for one party present in the footage, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said. “You.”

“ _Obviously_ , I meant the two other people, come on, J.”

“No matches found.” J.A.R.V.I.S. told him bluntly and Tony swore under his breath.

“Figures.”

Tony sat down, folding his hands atop his head and working his jaw while he thought. It was surprisingly easy to believe that the kids were real, despite years of trying to convince himself that they weren’t. It was everything else that really bothered him. How were they traveling around? Tony’s lab was supposed to be pretty damn secure, but they’d more or less teleported in with no trouble. _They_ didn’t seem particularly dangerous, but what if something more sinister got a hold of the technology? Tony wondered if it were possible to somehow ward the lab against teleportation.

For another thing, were they _actually_ time traveling? Tony didn’t think it was possible, but he also hadn’t thought teleportation was. The whole thing was too strange to dismiss the idea out of hand. J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn’t been able to find any matches for them, which seemed like a point in their favor. There were other reasons that J.A.R.V.I.S. might not have been able to find them, but it was pretty difficult to live your life never having your photo posted on social media or stepping in front of a surveillance camera. And with an explanation already in front of him… It was possible that they were unrecognizable because they hadn’t been born yet.

Unlikely, but possible.

\--

  
  


“Hey,” Tony said blithely when they landed again. They were in the same room they’d just left and, miraculously, Tony did not seem to be drunk. 

Peter staggered, hissing in a tight breath while he clutched his arm to his chest. 

“Peter!” Morgan’s grip tightened on his sleeve and Tony turned to frown at them while Peter fought to catch his breath. This probably was not great. It definitely felt like it was getting worse, but Peter didn’t know what the alternative might be. He couldn't just put the Stone down.

“I’m ok,” he said stiffly after a few deep breaths, slowly straightening up again. Tony watched him, the frown deepening as Peter massaged his arm and tried to school his face out of the grimace it had been in.

“What’s that about?” Tony asked, gesturing toward Peter’s still wrapped hand.

“The- uh- magic stone I told you about?” Peter swallowed, rolled his shoulders, and continued. “It’s-- humans aren’t really supposed to use them. They’re too powerful.”

Tony watched another moment before turning his attention away. “Yeah, about that, tell me more about this time-travel thing.”

“I’m not sure how much I can really say,” Peter hedged. “I don’t want to, like, mess up the timeline or anything…”

“The Stones are _bad._ ” Morgan told Tony firmly. Peter watched a flicker of emotion pass over Tony’s face as he looked at her properly for the first time. He looked away quickly.

“So, there’s more than one.” He said instead.

“Yeah.” Peter deflated a little. “There’s six. They all do different stuff.”

“Can you show it to me?” Tony asked and Peter flinched. He pulled the Stone closer to his chest. 

“No!” It was probably more forceful than it needed to be, but he’d just seen Tony _die_ because of these. He didn’t want Tony near them ever again, even just to look at one. Tony’s frown returned at being denied, but he held up his hands in mock surrender and turned back to the screen he’d been working on when Peter and Morgan appeared. 

“Suit yourself,” Tony grumbled, his feathers clearly ruffled. Peter and Morgan exchanged looks. They’d already been on the receiving end of Tony’s temper a few times during their travels and neither was eager to repeat the experience. 

“What’re you working on?” Peter asked after a moment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Tony said petulantly, swiping away from the screen, but not before Peter caught a glimpse of the project title.

“Jericho missile,” Peter read aloud, furrowing his brow. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. Obviously, it was something Tony had made, but he’d made hundreds (if not thousands) of products and Peter certainly didn’t remember all of them.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony flapped a hand to shoo Peter away from the workstation. “That’s top-secret stuff, pipsqueak. What are you, some corporate spy? Get your nose outta there.”

Despite the annoyance in Tony’s voice, Morgan _giggled_. Tony sounded more like himself than they’d ever heard him so far. It was encouraging.

“That’s right,” Peter said, allowing himself a little smile. “Stark Industry is still making weapons now, isn’t it? When are we?”

“2007. What do you mean _still_ making?” Tony quirked his head at him.

“Nothing,” Peter tried to say, but Tony had learned some of his tells now and he pointed a disbelieving finger at the boy. “Mr. Stark, _timelines!”_

“You let slip about Pepper and the timeline hasn’t collapsed yet,” Tony quipped, folding his arms. “Assuming you meant the same Pepper and not some other Pepper… Quick, describe _your_ Pepper to me.”

Morgan’s eyes had gone round as dinner plates at the mention of her mother and Peter clapped a hand over her mouth just as she drew a breath to speak. 

“Morgan! Timelines!” Peter hissed under his breath. The last thing he needed was for them to ruin something and make it so Morgan had never been born. Slowly, he peeled his hand away from her mouth and she glared at him petulantly but didn’t speak. When he looked back, Tony was watching them intently again, his gaze focused on Morgan this time with a look on his face that Peter couldn’t quite describe. 

“Ms. Pepper is great,” He said quickly, hoping to distract Tony from whatever connections he was undoubtedly making. “She’s super super smart, and uh…”

Peter paused, trying to think what details wouldn’t give away too much about who Pepper was in 2023. He started again a little more tentatively. “She’s pretty tall? And she’s got red hair? She’s really pretty.”

Morgan nodded emphatically at that, her mouth still clamped shut. Tony threw a fist in the air in triumph.

“I _knew_ it!” He said gleefully. “So I still know her in like fifteen years? I knew she was a good hire.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whined. This thread of conversation led to spoilers about Tony’s timeline way too quickly. He needed to get them on some other track until the Stone deemed it time for them to move on. “Come on, I promise we’re not corporate spies, can you _please_ tell us about what you’re working on?”

“I dunno, kid, it’s pretty confidential. And it’s _literally_ rocket science, so…” Tony looked at them pointedly, but at least some of the venom was gone. Apparently the victory about guessing Pepper correctly had done much to lift his mood. 

“We’re smart!” Morgan piped up. Peter nearly added that Tony himself thought that Peter was smart enough to work on all kinds of projects with him, before he remembered that _that_ was definitely a spoiler. 

“Please? If it’s really that complicated then we won’t get it anyway so it won’t matter how top secret it is,” Peter pointed out. 

Tony looked like he wanted to refuse but, for whatever reason, he begrudgingly pulled up the plans again. Peter listened, fascinated despite the circumstances and his aching hand, while Tony explained how the missile was put together. He liked seeing Tony work, even if this version of him was more arrogant about his accomplishments and didn't have nearly so many as Peter’s version of him. It was only when Tony began to describe the missile's capabilities and uses that Peter realized that Morgan was _also_ following along. 

“Sounds like a, uh, real game changer,” Peter interrupted quickly. Morgan was cleverer than Peter really liked to think about. He didn’t know if she understood all that had been said or not, but he didn’t think she should be hearing about ‘obliterating entire terrorist cells.’ Tony looked a little miffed at the interruption, but proud of himself too. 

“Yup. Already got a military contract all lined up. Headed to Afghanistan for a demonstration in a few months, but it's basically a done deal.”

Morgan couldn’t stop her little gasp at Tony’s words. Peter managed to stifle the noise, but he couldn’t disguise the look of shock and dread that was no doubt covering his face. Tony raised an eyebrow at them.

“Was it something I said?” He asked, feigning nonchalance. If Peter hadn’t seen Tony do it before, he might have believed the casual facade. Peter hardly knew all the details of what Tony had gone through at the hands of the Ten Rings, but he knew enough. How could he let Tony walk into that blind? 

“Daddy! You can’t go!” Morgan burst out, unable to keep herself quiet knowing what waited for her father. She flung herself at Tony’s legs, hugging him around the knees again.

“Morgan, he _has_ to!” Peter whispered, not looking at Tony. Morgan buried her face in Tony’s knee, shaking her head. “No, look at me. If he doesn’t go, then he never…”

Peter held out a hand, miming the way Iron Man fired blasts from his hands. 

“But-” Morgan stammered. 

“I know.”

“So…” Tony interrupted. “I take it, I _die_ in Afghanistan?”

“No, Mr. Stark. You do _not_ die in Afghanistan.” Peter said firmly. Maybe it was spoilers, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Tony giving up so early on. He needed to have hope. He needed to believe that he could escape the cave. 

“But something happens there.”

“Please,” Peter begged. He could feel the tug from the Stone, knew that their time was up for today. He pulled Morgan from Tony, even though she shrieked at the separation. “You _have_ to go. It’s so important, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry- _please_ \--”

Peter pleaded, even as Morgan wailed her objections, until they both vanished. 

Months later, watching the blood blossom across his chest after being thrown from the Humvee, Tony distantly thought that, yeah, this definitely counted as “something” happening to him in Afghanistan. 

_But I don’t die here_ , Tony told himself when he woke up to a car battery wired to his chest. _I don’t die here,_ he told himself while they waterboarded him, while he charged out of his cell in his pell-mell armor, while he crashed in the desert. _I don’t die here. I don’t die here. I don’t die here_.

“Do you have a family, Mr. Stark?” Yinsen had asked him. Tony didn’t know how to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie in question is 'A Beautiful Mind' in case anyone was curious, which came out in 2001


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan was still crying when they reappeared in the lab. She took one look at the arc reactor now embedded in Tony’s chest, and ran to hug him around the knees. Tony was drunk again, as far as Peter could tell, and slouched on a couch shoved in one corner of his lab. He had a vacant expression on his face and, for once, didn’t look entirely horrified by Morgan touching him. In fact, when Peter finally looked over at him, he’d placed a hand on top of her head. He wasn’t petting her hair or anything, but it was the closest Tony had come to showing any affection toward his daughter since they’d started this awful trip.

“I’m sorry,” Peter gasped, guilt swamping him knowing that they’d let everything happen to Tony all over again. His arm throbbed so badly that Peter almost couldn’t speak. He knew it was only his arm, but the burning tendrils of the Stone's power felt like they were crawling all the way up his shoulder, across his chest, curling up in his lungs. “If- if you hadn’t gone, you wouldn’t be Iron Man and- and…”

Tony looked up at him. Peter expected anger, to be reproached for keeping such a thing a secret. All that Peter found in Tony’s face, however, was resignation.

“Who are you guys, really?” He asked, ignoring Peter’s apologies. Amazingly, he didn’t even sound accusatory.

“I told you,” Peter said, “I’m Peter.”

“Spider-Man,” Tony shook his head, almost cracking a smile at the name.

“Yeah. And that’s Morgan… your daughter.”

“No, she’s not,” Tony said, but he didn’t sound angry this time. Just exhausted. Morgan looked up at him tearfully. It had been a few visits since he’d denied being her father. She must have been hoping, despite Peter's warnings, that he somehow _had_ recognized her in spite of everything, or at least grown to love her as her actual father had. Peter sighed. His arm hurt  _ so much. _ He didn’t know how much he had in him to explain again.

“She is,” Peter tried to say, but Tony shook his head. 

“No, look. You’re like, what, three?” Tony asked Morgan.

“Four an’ a half,” she corrected quietly. 

“Did I die before you were born? Or when you were a little baby?” Morgan shook her head. “You claim you knew me? I’ve been alive for at least most of your life?”

“Yes,” Morgan said earnestly. Tony did smile then, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Not my kid.” He said, “There’s no way I’m gonna be alive for the next three or four years.”

“Mr. Stark, of course, you will!” 

“Nope. Check it out.” Tony took his hand off Morgan’s head to fiddle with the buttons of his shirts. He pulled it open, revealing the arc reactor. It was still lodged deeply in his sternum, surrounded by rope-like scar tissue. Black lines radiated out from the device, stretching like roots across Tony’s chest. Tony let them stare at it until he was sure the message had sunk in before he began buttoning up his shirt again. 

“Palladium poisoning. Tried every single element out there and nothing’s gonna work as a replacement. Guessing I’ve got, mmmm, less than a year. And, huh, would you look at that? Haven’t fathered any children. So, who are you, really?” Tony’s voice hardened at the end of his little rant, looking up at Peter more seriously. 

Peter almost felt like crying. He’d never heard of this. He didn’t know if they had somehow doomed Tony to this by something they said or did, or if Tony had simply never told him about it. How could Tony be  _ dying _ ? The world needed him! Without him, when Thanos inevitably came… 

Peter shook his head, lifting his chin. “You can’t die yet, Mr. Stark.”

“Doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a choice, kid,” Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter dropped to his knees next to Morgan, beseeching. 

“You  _ can’t _ die yet. You don’t understand.” Even Morgan was looking at him worriedly now and Peter knew he was poorly disguising his panic. “We  _ need _ you. Without you-- Mr. Stark, literally the fate of the  _ world _ depends on it!”

“Daddy saved the world,” Morgan said sadly, nodding as she began to understand what Peter was saying. 

“More than once.” Peter muttered under his breath, the Battle of New York flooding back to him. And the disaster at Sokovia, now that he thought of it. The world owed its continued existence to Tony at least three times over. 

Tony opened his mouth as if to argue, but was cut off by a strange crackling sound just as the familiar tingle of Peter’s spider sense began to prickle at the back of his neck. He turned, standing in front of Tony and Morgan as a tear opened in the air on the other side of the lab. For a moment, Peter felt relief, recognizing the strange orange sparks flying off the tear. Dr. Strange was coming. He knew about the Time Stone, he could help them. 

“You’re a very difficult person to track, Peter Parker.”

Peter stiffened. The person stepping through the new portal was  _ not _ Dr. Strange. They were bald, almost completely androgynous, and robed in yellow. In fact, if Peter had been in a joking sort of mood, he would have said they looked like one of the airbenders from Avatar (sans the tattoos). 

“Who-”

“I am the guardian of the Time Stone.” They said shortly. “The  _ present _ guardian. I will be able to explain more fully, and to return you and the girl to your rightful place in time, but we must move quickly. You must return the Stone to me. You would not believe the consequences you risk by wielding it untrained.”

For a moment, Peter’s heart soared. He’d been so lost since they first vanished from Tony and Pepper’s cabin in the woods, and here was a solution, a way  _ home _ , being handed to him on a platter. At the mention of relinquishing the Stone, however, Peter recoiled. He shook his head violently.

He didn’t know this person. He didn’t know their intentions or what they wanted the Stone for or how they would use it. He didn’t know if they would actually take him and Morgan home or if they would abandon them somewhere in time. If this person was lying, then the Time Stone was their  _ only _ way home. 

“I can’t,” Peter gasped, holding his arm to his chest protectively. He wished he had his mask. Even if Karen stopped functioning, at least it would hide his expression. He knew without a doubt that his panic was written plainly on his face. 

“Peter, there isn’t much time.” The newcomer’s face hardened. “Do not make this harder than it needs to be.”

“He said no, Dragonball.” 

Peter turned his head, stunned. He knew that  _ his _ Mr. Stark would back him up, but he’d never expected this Tony to. The so-called guardian gave Tony a withering look. 

“Your time with the Stones is not for many years, Mr. Stark.” They said dismissively. “Now, give me the Stone before anything irreversible happens.”

“No!”  _ Please, _ Peter thought, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his hand around the Stone even as it burned hot in his palm,  _ Please get us out of here, please, please, please. _

In front of them, the guardian had tired of waiting. Peter sensed rather than saw the magic gathering around their palms. He heard Morgan’s frightened gasp at whatever she saw.  _ Please, get us out of here before anyone gets hurt. _

“Peter,” Morgan whimpered. She had let go of Tony to cling to him, no doubt seeking an exit just as much as he was. “Peter, I’m scared. I miss Mommy. I want--”

_ Please! _

“Wait, stop!”

But the tug had already begun pulling them away. They vanished before Tony or the guardian had a chance to stop them.

\--

Tony didn’t believe in magic.

The kids had been right; in the following months Tony saved his own life. He saved the world. He fought _aliens_ of all things and glimpsed a threat he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around.

He didn't believe in magic, but he had J.A.R.V.I.S. track the ‘guardian’s face anyway. He found little: no name, no personal history, no affiliations, only the occasional glimpse of the monk-looking person on security footage around the world. He set up an alert to ping any unusual movements from them, but never got anything noteworthy.

He finally told Pepper about the kids. He loved her too much to keep something so important from her any longer. He could tell that Pepper didn’t really believe him, but amazingly it wasn’t this apparent insanity that made her leave him.

Tony didn’t believe in magic, but he was beginning to believe in time-travel. 

\--

Pepper’s life was officially out of control. 

Running Tony’s company (or was it her company? She was CEO but his name was still on the building) would have been headache enough. The weapons manufacturing department had finally been dismantled in its entirety, but a dozen new departments had popped up to take its place, each requiring rounds of meetings and interviews and  _ so much paperwork _ . There were new products to develop - products Howard had probably never thought they’d stoop to designing: laptops and defibrillators and cell-phones and breathalyzers and wheelchairs. Piled on top of that, public relations always seemed to be swinging on a giant pendulum. How could Iron Man be so popular while Tony Stark remained so controversial?

And that was all before  _ aliens _ had invaded  _ New York _ . And now there were reports of suicide bombers in LA?

All of that didn’t even begin to address Tony himself: Tony who still wouldn’t see a therapist, Tony who kept saying he was going to quit drinking but never seemed to be able to kick it, Tony who was convinced that he was visited by  _ time traveling children _ but wouldn’t submit himself to a doctor’s examination, Tony who gave so much of himself to his work and his suits of armor that there wasn’t any of him left for her or anyone else. Pepper had needed this break, but somehow it was almost as bad  _ not _ knowing what Tony was up to as it was to be caught in his mess. 

And now a surfer-looking silicone-valley wanna be was “showing her his brain.”

Pepper sympathized with Tony’s urge to take the edge off more than she was willing to admit. So she thought she was reacting perfectly naturally when a blinding flash of light deposited two people in her office and she began screaming. Actually, all three of them were screaming. 

The smaller of the two - a little girl - sobbed and launched herself at Pepper with a desolate cry of “Mommy.” Pepper froze as the child latched onto her, no doubt getting snot all over her pristine skirt-suit. The boy’s scream died on his lips and he tilted sideways, crumpling onto her rug with a low moan. 

The door to her office flew open as Happy burst into the room, no doubt drawn by the noise, and immediately started shouting questions, gesturing wildly at the kids, but all Pepper could manage was a frantic, “I don’t know! I have no idea!”

Pepper kept painfully still as Happy knelt and shook the boy’s shoulder. 

“Hey, kid, you ok?” He asked gruffly. The boy opened his eyes and groaned again softly before croaking out.

“Oh, hey, Happy.”

“You know him?” Pepper demanded, but Happy had straightened up, shaking his head. 

“I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“Mommy, help, the bad guy is trying to get the Stone and Peter’s sick and I don’t know how to go home!” The little girl wailed. 

“You have a  _ kid? _ ”

“No!” Pepper almost shrieked. She most certainly did  _ not  _ have a kid, and frankly she didn’t plan on it. Her life was both hectic and fulfilling enough without it and damn anyone who said otherwise. She looked down at the little girl, still not daring to touch her though the girl still had her arms wrapped around Pepper. “Who  _ are _ you? Who’s Peter?”

“Don’t you remember? It’s me! It’s Morgan!” The little girl only cried harder at having to explain. The boy on the floor, presumably ‘Peter’, slowly pushed himself upright. He held one arm, wrapped in a jacket, close to his chest and his face was pale, but otherwise he seemed alright. He held out his free arm to Morgan with a sigh.

“It’s ok, Morgan, come here.” Morgan, if anything, clung to Pepper even more tightly. “It’s ok. She just doesn’t know yet. We’re still too early.”

“You’re his kids,” Pepper gasped, looking down at the little girl. Happy shot her a glance as if to ask ‘who?’ “Tony’s kids! His time-traveling kids he was talking about!”

Happy looked as though Pepper had just declared she was going to switch careers and become a trophy wife for how crazy she sounded. Peter, however, just sighed again.

“Yeah,” He admitted, almost casually. “Sorry, Ms. Pepper. Morgan just really really wanted to see you so I think we ended up here instead of with Tony. Do you know what year it is?”

“It’s 2012,” Pepper said, staring. “It’s-- almost Christmas.”

“Hear that, Morgan? We’re only like ten years off now. We’ll catch up soon.”

“It’s  _ eleven _ , Peter.” Morgan whined. Somewhere, distantly, Pepper was impressed. The girl was very small, but could clearly already do some math. Peter, for his part, looked troubled despite himself. He turned suddenly to Pepper, looking pale again.

“Ms. Pepper, you  _ can’t  _ tell Mr. Stark what Morgan called you,” he said earnestly. “It’s super super important. It’s time-travel stuff. If you tell him-”

Peter couldn’t seem to manage to put into words exactly  _ what  _ would happen if Pepper told him. Startled, Pepper realized suddenly that she recognized the wild look and frantic gasping that had Peter shaking where he sat. He looked exactly like Tony did when he was struck with a panic attack. 

“ _ Breathe _ , kid,” Happy told him sternly, but Peter just shook his head. 

“Please,” he gasped at Pepper. The boy really looked like he was on the verge of passing out, so Pepper slowly nodded.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Peter let out a long shaky breath. He shivered suddenly and looked around the room, but Pepper saw nothing that would alarm him half as much as his face suggested. “Morgan, it’s time, we gotta go.”

Obediently, Morgan relinquished her hold on Pepper and went to hold Peter’s free hand. He looked paler than ever, face pinched as he tried for a rye smile. “I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this.”

They vanished in the same flash of green light that they’d arrived in. As she and Happy blinked the spots away, Pepper could have sworn she saw orange sparks in among the other lights, but they disappeared by the time her vision cleared.

“What on earth?” Happy began only for Pepper to grab his arm firmly.

“Happy,” she said seriously, “I need you to take us to Tony. Right. Now.”

—

Peter went down again as soon as his feet hit the cool tile. His stomach lurched and for a moment, Peter felt sure he was about to pass out. To be honest, he couldn’t even feel his hand anymore. The pain seemed to begin at his elbow and radiate out, but his forearm and hand were almost completely numb. It would have been a relief if he didn’t know that it meant something bad.

He blinked hard. He knew where they were for once. This was the Avengers compound upstate. It didn’t even look that different from how Peter remembered it. If he didn’t know that the compound had been destroyed in the final battle, Peter would have said that they made it back to their own time. 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut again when the floor began to tilt. Morgan was shaking his shoulder urgently, but he still needed a minute- just a minute- to collect himself. 

“‘M ok, Morgan,” He mumbled without opening his eyes, but she didn’t seem to believe him. It seemed like she’d barely stopped crying since this whole thing began and a fresh wave of guilt struck him when Peter realized that he was the cause this time. 

“Mommy! Daddy!” She called desperately. “F.R.I.D.A.Y!”

“Yes?” The slightly mechanical voice sounded almost confused. Peter felt a little swell of relief at the sound of another familiar voice. She had probably alerted Tony already, even if no obvious alarm had sounded. Good. That was good.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need help!” Morgan cried. When F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t immediately answer her or offer any comfort, Morgan wailed. A moment later, however, Peter heard hurried footsteps on the tiled floor. “Daddy!”

“Christ, what the  _ hell _ , Tones?” That wasn’t Tony. Peter cracked an eye long enough to identify Rhodes, before he shut it again with a wave of nausea. 

“I told you, Rhodey,” Tony said, a little harshly. He sounded very close. A larger hand closed on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Hey, kid, you with us?”

“I’m ok,” Peter croaked again, trying to wave him off, but moving  _ hurt. _

“Uh huh, I bet you are,” Tony said with a little scoff. 

“It’s the Stone,” Morgan told him. “It’s making him sick. Daddy, fix it, please.”

“Alright, let’s take a look.” Tony slowly unfolded Peter’s arm from his chest. His touch was probably gentle enough, but it didn’t feel like it. Peter  _ screamed _ before he could stop himself. 

“Tony-” Rhodey said nervously. “Maybe you should leave this to a doctor.”

“They don’t have that much time,” Tony snapped, “They’ll be gone again by the time anyone gets here.”

“Jesus, they’re real. I can’t believe they’re  _ real _ . I mean, I believed you guys, but this…”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet as Tony started to pull the sweater away from his arm, but couldn’t silence himself completely. The air felt so cold on his scorched arm. 

“Don’t,” he whimpered. “Mr. Stark- don’t touch it- the Stone-”

“Relax,” Tony said with just a hint of annoyance. Peter pulled open his eyes, only to see Tony reaching for the Stone. Peter yanked his arm away with a shout.

“No!” He cried. “It’ll hurt you!”

“Kid, it’s already hurting  _ you _ .” Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. 

Then Peter felt the familiar prickle at the back of his neck. He gasped, head snapping to Morgan to make sure she was close by. She caught his look and her eyes went wide. She grabbed Tony’s hand.

“Bad guys are coming.” She said. Tony swore, but didn’t pull his hand from hers.

“Bad guys?” Rhodey asked. 

“I dunno. They showed up last time and tried to get the Stone. Call your armor.” Tony told him, already calling his own. Peter slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, though this too made his head spin. There was still something comforting, however, about watching the familiar red and gold armor encasing Tony. Everything would be ok so long as Tony and his armor were together. 

There was only just time for Peter to think this before the portal opened before them in a shower of orange sparks and the guardian stepped through, looking more than a bit annoyed. 

“You are being very foolish, child,” they warned. Peter knew they would not waste time trying to reason with them now and their hands were already haloed in orange light. The warning tingle swelled, turning to a full ringing in Peter’s ears, drowning out whatever Tony had quipped in return. Peter winced, lifting his free hand to his ear as Tony fired off a blast that the guardian easily dodged. 

“Someone else is coming,” Peter whispered as the ringing built to an almost painful intensity. He tuned out the adults above him, squeezing his eyes shut again against the bursts of blue and orange light as Tony and the guardian fought. Just when Peter thought his eardrums might burst, a loud ‘pop’ split the air. 

It was so loud and so sudden that the fight paused momentarily. 

“Captain Rogers!” Peter cried without thinking. 

“You’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me,” Tony groaned. “Hasn’t anyone told you people that this is one of the most secure facilities in the world? You’re not  _ supposed _ to just ‘pop in’ whenever you want.”

For a moment Captain Rogers just stared at Tony and Peter felt sure he knew some of what must be going through his head. Their Tony was dead. His death was so recent and painful that seeing this version of him, alive and acting so much like himself, was certainly a shock to the system.

The guardian looked between them all, from the Captain’s grip on his shield to the two sets of arm-cannons now pointed in their direction, and lowered their hands, extinguishing the light. They lifted their chin, eyes locking with Peter’s for one chilling moment, before they retreated, sealing the portal behind them. Peter shivered. For once, time was against him on this. The guardian could wait and track them to their next landing point. Whenever it was, Peter felt sure, the guardian would be there.

Peter sagged as soon as the guardian was gone.

“Peter! Morgan!” A few quick strides brought Steve close to them and he dropped to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Are you alright, son?”

Peter opened his mouth to lie, but found that he couldn’t under the heavy weight of  Captain America’s gaze. He shook his head minutely. Steve frowned, turning his attention to the arm still clutching the Time Stone. He didn’t say anything, so Peter assumed it looked not-great. He couldn’t bring himself to look though, too scared of what he would see. 

“You’re not him,” Tony said slowly. “You’re not our Steve.”

“No,” Steve admitted.

“Yeah, I don’t think our Steve would be caught dead in that get-up,” Tony huffed, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. Steve raised an eyebrow.

“ _ You _ designed these.”

“Bullshit.” Tony said with a wrinkle of his nose. Steve only shrugged rummaging in his pockets. He produced a pair of wrist watches, holding them out to Peter and Morgan.

“Here, put these on. I’m gonna get you home. You have no idea how worried your mom is, Morgan.” Steve said sternly. Morgan’s face fell at the news and for once her sorrow actually looked a bit penitent. 

“Captain- I can’t-” Peter said quickly. The light green light began to pulse more brightly between his fingers. “I’m sorry-”

Morgan gasped and flung her arms around Peter’s neck. Steve reached to grab either of them.

“No, no, no, no,” He whispered frantically, but the pair vanished and his hands fell through empty air. “Shit.  _ Shit! _ ”

Steve pounded a fist against the tiled floor, breathing hard. Tony watched awkwardly for a moment before he coughed.

“Language.”

Steve shot him a half-hearted glare before his shoulders slumped. He rocked back to sit dejectedly on the floor looking up at Tony.

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” Steve said and he sounded so somber that Tony wondered exactly what had happened at their last meeting to make him sound like that. 

“Uh, likewise,” Tony powered off his armor, turning to Rhodey as he did the same. “You ok? That was kind of… a lot.”

“How is that what made you  _ stop _ drinking?” Rhodey flung out an arm, gesturing to the empty space where the kids had been. “I need- I need to talk to Pepper.”

Tony patted him firmly on the shoulder with a grim smile. “You do that. Maybe have a lie down. Therapy bill’s on me.”

Rhodey grumbled, slapped the hand away, then pulled Tony in for a brisk hug. He left them with an odd look at Steve and an awkward salute when Tony called, “Try not to take it in all at once!”

When it was just the two of them, Tony found Steve staring at him with that same intense grim look. The scrutiny made Tony want to squirm and he folded his arms to stop himself.

“So, how long have you got before you…” Tony made a popping sound with his mouth. Steve sighed very deeply as he pulled himself off the ground and dropped onto a couch. 

“As long as I need,” he said, holding out his own wrist to display another watch. “I’m not using the Stone to travel.”

Tony watched him another moment before sitting down on the couch across from him and beginning to bounce his knee. 

“Did I really invent time travel?” He asked suddenly. Steve cracked a small smile.

“You did.”

“And Morgan and Peter, they’re really my…” 

“She’s yours, yeah. Tony, I don’t know if I should be telling you this, it could mess everything up.”

“I already kinda knew it anyway,” Tony shrugged. He couldn’t name the feeling tugging at him at the news that Peter wasn’t his. Peter had said as much, but Tony hadn’t entirely believed it. He hadn't had much time with him, but what he'd seen of Peter so far was that he was clever and resilient and always very gentle with Morgan. None of that really reminded Tony of himself, but that was sort of what made the idea appealing: that he might be capable of being involved with a kid and still have them turn out like... that. But he still wasn’t planning on kids, regardless of time travel shenanigans. It was a strange feeling regardless. “What’s Spider-Man?”

That got a more genuine smile out of Steve. “That’s Peter.”

“What kind of name is that? He’s not- Steve, he’s not an Avenger is he?”

“Not  _ exactly _ ,” Steve told him and Tony groaned, dragging a hand over his face. 

“What do his  _ parents _ think about that?”

“His parents are dead, Tony.” Steve said gently. “He lives with his aunt.”

“Oh.” Tony felt a little breathless, even though he still didn’t really know Peter. It figured the kid would have some tragic backstory. _An orphan_ , Tony thought unbidden, _like me_. Steve, must have been having similar thoughts. His face fell and he leaned forward, head bowed.

“Tony- god, this is probably going to ruin everything- Tony, I have to tell you something. Something about me, about  _ your _ Steve.” Steve sounded pretty wrecked. It was enough to keep Tony from making any snide comments (for the moment) and he waited for Steve to continue. 

“I’m- your version of me is keeping a secret. I’m so sorry, Tony, it wasn’t mine to keep from you, but you have to believe me, I  _ thought _ I was doing the right thing at the time. I thought it would hurt you to know the truth, but… fuck, Tony, I’m sorry, I thought it would put Bucky in danger if you knew.”

“Barnes?” Tony tilted his head. He’d read the reports from Washington from last year and was still dealing with the ramifications of dismantling S.H.I.E.L.D. He knew that Steve’s old war-buddy had been mysteriously resurrected and that Steve was searching for him when he had time. Steve nodded.

“It was HYDRA. They  _ broke _ him, Tony. They tortured him… and they brainwashed him. He has done a lot of very,  _ very _ , bad things.” Steve said, the anxiety tight in his voice as he searched Tony’s face for reaction. “It wasn’t his fault. I know that doesn’t make it better, or- or- excuse it exactly, but you have to understand, he didn’t have a choice.”

Dread began to fill a pit in Tony’s stomach.

“What did he do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> visits are getting closer together as they approach their own time...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: slight body horror toward the end  
> To skip, stop reading at "Don't look" and pick up again at "Steve moved first"

Tony’s rage was nearly apoplectic when Steve finished telling him everything. He yelled. He threw things. And then, finally, he cried. He’d spent so long blaming Howard for his mother’s death. It felt like learning they’d died all over again to discover that none of it had been the way it seemed.

Luckily, present-day Steve wasn’t even in the country or Tony was sure he would have done something irreversible. Instead he screamed and swore at future-Steve while he rode the worst of his anger out. 

“You have to understand,” Future-Steve had begged, “Bucky is- Bucky is- imagine if this had happened to Rhodes, or to Pepper.”

Tony didn’t want to. He didn’t want to admit that there was any excuse for the secret Steve had kept, but he pictured it despite himself. What would he do if he thought Rhodey was dead? Rhodey, who’d kept him afloat during college and been at his parents’ funeral and hadn’t ever given up on him when he’d been lost in Afghanistan - what would it be like to turn around and find that someone had scooped out his insides, everything that made him Rhodey, and left a cold shell of a man in his place? If it was Pepper… Tony couldn’t even begin to contemplate what it would be like if it happened to Pepper. 

He was still furious, but despite himself, Tony understood. There was nothing he would not do, no lie he would not tell, if he thought it would protect them. 

“He just wants to protect his friend,” Steve promised earnestly. “If you help him, if you promise to protect Bucky, he will agree to anything.”

Future-Steve stayed long enough to explain as much as he could about Barnes and to get a potential guess on where he would go to find Peter and Morgan next. When he was gone, Tony threw himself at his Pepper and Rhodey. There was a lot to process.

“I want a drink,” he admitted to Pepper, not daring to look her in the eyes. Pepper combed her fingers through his hair and nodded and Tony wondered for the first time if she knew more about the feeling than she let on.

Tony didn’t take the drink, though it nearly killed him not to. Instead, he guzzled diet soda like it was going out of style and when Steve returned with his crew a week later, Tony only slapped him and called him an asshole and a fucking idiot for trying to keep his parents’ death a secret. 

Steve’s righteous anger dissolved the minute Tony offered his full support to bringing Barnes in before any disgruntled government found him first. In just a few months, Barnes was situated in his own high-security extra-padded floor of the tower with Sam offering the occasional counseling session while they searched for answers and a better trained professional to help him re-acclimate himself to freedom and individuality. 

Steve was nearly hysterical with gratitude: still his annoying, combative, justice-loving self, but Future-Steve had been right. He would never consider this immense favor repaid to Tony.

Especially when, less than a year later, someone attempted to frame the Winter Soldier for a terrorist attack in Vienna. Tony’s extensive surveillance system and his, Sam, and Steve’s eyewitness testimony that Barnes had been locked in his room in New York at the time, had the charges quickly dismissed. 

The accords, when they came about, would be signed. Steve was still resistant to the idea, but Tony had been able to stare him down and say “trust me,” and Steve had nodded stiffly. A united front from the Avengers gave them significant bargaining power with the U.N. and Tony felt confident that it would be at least a few years before any version of the accords were finalized enough to warrant a signature. 

When the Avengers parted, it was to establish outposts across the wider globe. It was all well and good if the threat landed in America again, but the rest of the world seemed painfully unprotected - as trying to get to Korea and then Sokovia to fight Ultron had proved. When Steve left with Sam, Wanda, and Bucky for Wakanda, he clapped Tony’s arm fiercely and swore he was only a phone call away. 

And for once, Tony believed him. 

\--

A year after Peter and Morgan's last visit, one of Tony’s alerts finally pinged a result. 

Tony had alerts for practically everything related to his time travelers: facial recognition on the guardian, scientific or technological advancements on anything relating to time travel, facial recognition on Peter and Morgan, and one specifically for any mention of 'Spider-Man.' 

Peter's alert had only ever pinged three results. A week after Tony had set up the program, he'd gotten a match for Peter's face in a photo of three smiling people attached to an obituary. Tony's heart had stopped for a moment, thinking all three were dead, before he realized only the man - Benjamin Franklin Parker - was being memorialized in the paper. There wasn't much about the dead man that Tony found interesting or useful (newspaper obituaries were practically cut and paste in his opinion), but it at least gave Tony a full name. Peter Benjamin Parker. Armed with this information, Tony found his only other search results: a clipping from about five years ago reporting that the boy had won a prize in a middle school science fair, and a passing mention of a Peter Parker from nearly ten years ago in the obituaries of a pair of Oscorp scientists, saying the couple had left behind a son in their passing. 

Tony had thought about reaching out then. The kid’s luck was apparently abysmal, going through parent-figures like grease, but he’d eventually he had decided that it was too soon. He couldn't do much to help a grieving kid.

He’d  _ never _ gotten any notifications on his ‘Spider-Man’ alert. Until now. 

Tony clicked through to the video eagerly, watching with some interest as the figure catapulted himself through the air, caught cars single-handed, and strung up bike-thieves in odd web-like traps. And he did it all in what looked like little more than a glorified pair of pajamas. That simply would not do.

When Tony made his move, he could barely restrain the flow of questions he was dying to ask about everything he’d seen since he was a teenager at MIT. Peter’s eyes, however, registered no recognition beyond shock and delight to find Tony Stark sitting on his threadbare couch. 

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. For once, he was the one waiting for Peter to catch up to the version of him that  _ he _ knew, rather than the other way around. But Peter was quick as a whip, enthusiastic to a fault, and eager for whatever scrap of attention Tony was willing to spare him. Tony could wait. He’d already waited thirty years, what was a few more?

\--

For once, Peter and Morgan landed in darkness. Peter sighed gratefully, pain heightening his senses so that the dark washed over him like a balm. He was glad to already be sitting down, or else he was sure he would have toppled over immediately. He felt weak and shaky, like he’d just thrown up, only worse. Super-strength felt a  _ long _ way off with how his limbs seemed to be made of jelly.

“Peter?” Morgan whispered, hands clenching in the collar of his shirt.

“I’m here,” Peter assured her.

A light flicked on suddenly, making Peter wince and recoil at the sudden brightness.

“Oh, Daddy,” Morgan said balefully, though Peter couldn’t see what made her sound so forlorn. He heard a ragged gasp from nearby and blinked hard to clear the spots from his eyes.

When he saw Tony, his heart sank. Tony hadn’t looked this bad when he lay  _ dying. _ The man was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, his collarbones standing out sharply from his chest. His wrists looked so small and fragile that Peter thought might shatter if someone shook Tony's hand too hard. There were dark circles ringing his eyes and a decidedly haunted look about him. Peter had never seen him like this, not once, and if he was honest, it scared him. 

What scared him most, however, were the tears. 

Peter had never seen Tony cry- not in his real life, in his own timeline. The younger Tony’s they’d encountered didn’t count. This was _their_ Tony, only he looked scraped raw, hollowed out. Tears ran in rivers down his cheeks, dripping off his nose, his chin. He didn’t sob, not outwardly, but his breathing was so broken and ragged that if Peter didn’t know better, he would think the man was having an asthma attack. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked cautiously. Tony shuddered, opened his mouth as if to speak, but choked on the words before they could escape. He lifted a hand as if to reach out and touch Peter, but fell short, too scared to follow through.

Peter reached back, clasping Tony’s hand (and god, he was cold), and this more than anything seemed to shatter Tony. 

“ _ Kid. _ ” The word seemed to cost him, but Tony pulled him in with surprising strength. 

They’d landed in some auxiliary room that Peter had never seen before, but looked like it would fit in neatly at the compound. Tony had been perched on the edge of a narrow bed when he seized Peter. Before Peter could fully comprehend what was happening, he found himself held fiercely in Tony’s arms, practically pulled into the man’s lap with the force of the hug. Peter bit his lip to keep from shouting when the movement jostled his mutilated arm, but didn’t pull away. He didn’t understand what was happening, but Tony had tucked Peter’s head under his chin and held him so tightly that if Peter were anyone else, it would have bruised.

“Whoa, I didn’t think we were there yet,” Peter tried to joke when Tony showed no sign of letting go, but the attempt only made Tony cling harder.

“ _ Kid. _ ” He said again. “I’m- sorry--”

“What? Why? Mr. Stark?” Peter frowned, slowly forming an idea of exactly  _ when _ they were.

“I couldn’t-- I didn’t--” Tony couldn’t seem to get more than two words out at a time before his throat closed up again. “I  _ had _ you-- I couldn’t stop it-- ‘M  _ sorry-- _ Peter.”

It was the use of his name that set Peter’s teeth on edge. Had Tony ever used his name? It was always ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo’ or ‘underoos’ or ‘spidey’ or any other infinite variation of nicknames that Tony came up with. With his free arm, Peter carefully tried to return at least a little of the hug, mindful of how fucking fragile Tony looked. 

“This is about the… dusting,” Peter said quietly, almost certain of it. “From when Thanos won.”

Tony flinched as though the name were a physical blow.

“My fault-- I couldn’t save--”

Peter pulled away just so he could look Tony in the face.

“But you did! You do! Mr. Stark, you  _ do _ save us!” He said earnestly. “You do. You invent time travel and you bring everyone back and you  _ beat _ him the second time around!”

Tony shook his head like he couldn’t believe Peter. They were far apart enough now though, that Tony’s eyes flitted to Peter’s hand were it still clutched the Time Stone. Peter looked without thinking and felt his stomach roil at the sight. His hand was  _ black. _ It looked utterly charred and Peter was glad he couldn’t feel it anymore. The black faded to red somewhere above his elbow, and from there, Peter wasn’t sure. From how Mr. Stark looked when he’d died, Peter guessed he’d have the same snaking red lines spreading from his shoulder too.

“Peter, you  _ didn’t. _ ” Tony breathed, horror as apparent in his voice as in his face. Peter pulled away, cradling his ruined hand to his chest defensively.

“I  _ had _ to!” Peter cried. 

“No, you didn’t,” Tony’s voice cracked. “ _ Why _ ? Nothing is worth this, kid,  _ nothing. _ ”

“Morgan was gonna grab it,” Peter admitted, suddenly very quiet, very aware that the little girl was still watching the exchange. “I couldn’t let her, Mr. Stark, I couldn’t and then… “

Tony went very still at the mention of Morgan. He began to shake as he gathered the courage to peer over Peter’s shoulder at her. Peter turned his head as well to watch as Morgan came close, staring at Tony with wide eyes that barely dared to look hopeful.

“Is she really…” It was so quiet that Peter almost didn’t hear Tony say it. “Is she…”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I told you. You're her dad.”

Tony released Peter slowly, eyes fixed on Morgan now. Peter pulled away gratefully, but felt like an intruder watching as Morgan tentatively approached her father. She reached out, put a hand on his knee as she stared up at him.

“Daddy?” She said tentatively. The sound Tony made was something between a laugh and a sob. Slowly, hands still shaking, Tony cupped her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.

“Hey,” He breathed. For a moment his expression was caught on rapture at the realization that she was real, she was  _ his _ , she was here, before it fell. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you before, Morgan,” He whispered, shame creasing his brow.

“It’s ok, Daddy,” Morgan told him. She clung to her composure for a few more seconds before she lost it and flung herself at Tony, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his stomach. “I  _ missed you!” _

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, returning the embrace for the first time since they’d started this stupid trip. Even diminished as he was, Tony still dwarfed the child and practically hid her from view when he wrapped his arms around her. “I love you. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Peter might have tried to deny the lump in his throat at the scene, but no amount of excuses could cover up his tears when Tony reached to pull him back in. He let Tony hold them both, cradling their heads as he bent over them and wept like his heart was breaking.

“I’ll fix this,” he swore. “I’ll get you both back, I promise. No matter what it takes.”

“No,” Peter broke in, suddenly afraid. “Mr.-- Tony,  _ don’t _ .”

“Peter,” he said warningly.

“No, I mean- get us back, that’s fine, but when Thanos comes back, you  _ have _ to let someone else use the Stones!” Peter begged. Morgan whimpered at the mention of how her father had  _ already _ died.

“Sometimes, there isn’t any other way,” Tony’s voice hardened with resolve, and Peter pushed out of his grasp again to gesture wildly. 

“Yes, there is! Please! Let Thor do it! Or Ms. Carol! They can do it, I know they can, just  _ let them. _ ” 

“Please,” Morgan whined, tightening her grip on Tony’s thin shirt. “Please, Daddy.”

Tony didn’t answer directly, a distinct  _ pop _ interrupting him before Tony had time to argue further. Steve looked frazzled and tired, but otherwise unchanged from the last time Peter had seen him. Tony let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him, which was a new but pleasant change for Peter. 

“Good timing, Cap,” Tony said quickly. “Come on.”

Steve wasted no time explaining this time around, pulling out the extra watches as he approached.

“We gotta be quick about this,” Steve agreed strapping the smaller watch to Morgan’s wrist while she looked nervously between Steve and her father. 

“Wait, Tony, you have to promise,” Peter insisted. Tony pretended he hadn’t heard. It didn’t occur to Peter to fight Captain America as the man briskly strapped the other watch to Peter’s good hand. 

“ _ Tony!”  _ Peter cried. Morgan might have picked up the Stone with the sole purpose of seeing her father again, but Peter wasn’t satisfied. Tony had lost so much-  _ Peter _ had lost so much. After everything Tony had dedicated his life to, all the sacrifices he made, it wasn’t fair for his life to end just when it promised to be good and peaceful for once. Peter wasn’t ready to let it go, to let Tony go, so easily.

“Just press the button here,” Steve was instructing them, “And you’ll be home in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“No, I’m not going until you promise.” Peter said firmly. 

“Don’t ask me to make promises I can’t keep. Now go. Get. May’s probably scared out of her mind right now!” 

Peter glowered at Tony, for once not looking away as Tony tried to stare him down. He took a deep breath and started to squeeze the Stone as best his numb, charred fingers could.

“Fine.” He spat. For a moment, Tony looked relieved. Then the light began to seep from between Peter’s fingers.

“Peter, no!” Tony reached for him, but the boy had vanished. This was the second time Peter had slipped through his fingers. Tony felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He clenched his fists in his hair trying to remember how to breathe, but he couldn’t. He’d failed him. Again. He’d been  _ right. There. _ “No, no, no, no.”

Steve touched his arm. It was only the lightest brush, but Tony spun, wide-eyed to face him. It wasn’t the worry in Steve’s eyes, but in Morgan’s that finally jump started his heart into beating again. 

“We’ll get him back, Tony,” Steve said seriously. Tony nodded wordlessly. “I’m going to bring Morgan back, and then I’ll go right back out for him. I’m pretty sure I know where he’s headed.”

\---

No one should have been able to hear him. 

The din of battle was overpowering: alien engines roaring, battle cries layered over howls of pain, the clash of metal against metal, the explosions that rocked the ground every few seconds. No one should have been able to hear Peter screaming when he collapsed near the wall of orange portals. 

The pain made his eyes water, his breath catch in his throat, and the world seemed to tilt back and forth like the deck of a ship under Peter’s knees. He was shaking all over, he knew it, his spider-senses ringing so loudly in his ears that it almost drowned out all other noise. 

Peter had chosen this moment. He’d come here on purpose, but now that he was back, Peter’s entire being rebelled against it. He hated this orange tinted landscape, he hated the violence, the noise, and he dreaded what he knew was coming. The pain of wielding a Stone only compounded the misery, so that even as he curled around his mutilated arm, Peter could not stop screaming. Or was he crying? He couldn’t tell. 

Still, he was just one boy in an onslaught of people. No one should have been able to hear him, and yet, somehow, Tony did. 

Peter didn’t see the indecision in Tony’s face as his eyes flitted between the freshly resurrected Peter soaring through the air in the Iron-Spider suit and the Peter clutching his arm for dear life. All Peter saw was a blur of red and gold and then a cold weight on his shoulder as Tony shook him. 

“Get out of here, kid,” Tony begged. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s gotta stop. It’s- you can’t handle it.”

Peter shook his head, screwing his eyes shut to keep the world from spinning too quickly. His cheeks were wet and his arm was numb to the elbow and he couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t.

“Go home! Kid- Peter-  _ please. _ ” 

_ Not without you, _ Peter swore and it took him long seconds to realize that he hadn’t managed to say it aloud. Peter forced his eyes open, forced himself to wobble to his knees, to his feet.  _ Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man. _ Tony was watching him, his expression so conflicted that Peter couldn’t pick out any one emotion. 

What if this didn’t work? What if he failed and Tony was left behind on this final jump? Peter pushed the thought from his mind. He had the Time Stone. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail. 

Peter stumbled and Tony half-caught him without thinking. In an instant, Peter flung his arms around Tony’s waist.  _ Please _ . He all but smashed the wrist watch against his numb fingers, hoping one would manage to press the right button.  _ Please, please, please _ . 

\--

Pepper leapt about a foot when they all reappeared. It had only been a minute since Steve vanished and though she knew, logically, that the search could have taken Steve months or years and he still would have come back to this same moment, it was still surprising to see him back so soon. 

For a moment, the company stared in stunned silence. Then, everything burst into motion at once.

Morgan flung herself at Pepper with a desperate cry of “Mommy,” and Pepper scooped the girl into her arms without a second thought. She peppered Morgan’s face with kisses as she ran her hands over her, relieved to find her unharmed-  _ and unaged. _ Pepper didn’t know how long it had been for Morgan since she left, but a part of Pepper had been terrified that if she ever got Morgan back, that her daughter would have grown up without her. 

She had little time to contemplate how grateful she was: the rest of the scene demanded her immediate attention. 

Peter was still screaming. He was writhing, shaking so badly that it almost looked as though he were seizing. Steve trapped the boys legs to keep him from kicking anyone and May held his head steady and- and  _ Tony _ straddled his chest, pinning down one of his shoulders. Tony, still in his armor, still covered in dust and grime, a bruise still blooming on his forehead- Tony  _ here _ and alive. And distraught.

“The Stone!” He shouted over Peter’s howls of pain. “The Stone! Quick!”

“Peter, sweetheart, you have to let go now,” May pleaded, brushing the hair away from his face, but the boy only shook and cried. Tony’s head whipped around, searching the gathered crowd for someone to intervene. 

Strange moved the quickest. He descended on Peter’s free arm- if one could call that mass of charred flesh an arm - pinning it to the ground. Peter screamed so loudly that his voice cracked in his throat as Strange tried to pry the Stone from his fingers. It would not come loose, Peter’s fingers frozen in their vice grip.

“Don’t look,” he warned May harshly and Pepper shut her eyes, hiding Morgan’s face in her neck. Even so, she swore she could hear each finger crack as Strange bore down.

“Come on,” Tony pleaded, “Come on, hurry!”

A shudder ran through Pepper’s body as she finally understood Tony’s urgency. Peter’s control over the Stone, if he’d ever developed it to begin with, was gone. If he vanished again now…

“Got it.” Strange sat back on his heels and Pepper opened her eyes, then wished she hadn’t. The hand was  _ gone _ . Black charcoal dust coated Strange’s gloves, streaked May and Tony’s faces, and piled at the stump end of Peter’s arm. He’d stopped screaming, she realized, gasping instead like a fish out of water while his body continued to tremble. 

Steve moved first, realizing that Peter was no longer fighting them, and vanished into the crowd (presumably to summon medical evacuation). Tony and May stayed crouched over Peter, whispering something that Pepper couldn’t hear. She didn’t  _ want _ to hear it. She didn’t want to know what Tony sounded like right now. The weight of his grief after the first battle had been nearly insurmountable; she wasn’t ready to face it again.

Morgan was crying, Pepper realized slowly, her tears soaking her neck. Pepper rubbed soothing circles onto her back and tried not to drown in her guilt. She and May had waited in suspense for their kids to return together, but she knew Peter had only gone missing to protect Morgan. Now, she had Morgan back, safe and sound in her arms (if not a little traumatized), while May…

May went with them when they finally arrived to cart Peter away, but Tony stayed frozen in place. He stared blankly into space until they were gone and Pepper had gently shooed the rest of their guests away. 

Tony’s armor slowly bled away, back into its casing, leaving Tony looking almost naked sitting there on the pine needles. She watched him reach up to touch his own face, watched him stare at the dark smudges on his fingertips and begin to shake. This was the second time he'd had Peter’s remains ground into his skin.

Pepper fell to her knees beside him and Morgan switched her grip from around Pepper’s neck to around Tony’s. For a moment, Tony just sat and trembled. The tears came slowly, and then all at once and Tony held onto them almost as fiercely as they held onto him. Pepper had only seen Tony like this a handful of times, and not since Carol Danvers had set his ship down on the compound lawn five years ago.

“Shh,” Pepper crooned, carding her fingers through Tony’s hair, squeezing Morgan’s shoulder. “It’s ok now. We’re gonna be ok.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The first time Peter woke, May blinked into focus dozing in a chair by his bed.

“May?”

She woke with a start, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard.

“I’m here, baby.”

“Morgan?” He croaked out. May smiled at him but there was something off about it that he couldn’t place.

“She’s completely safe.”

Peter nodded and fell immediately back asleep. Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say he fell back into unconsciousness. The effect was the same, really. The second time he woke, was almost exactly the same only he stayed awake long enough to ask about Tony as well.

Later, Peter would learn that these were not the first times he’d been awake. Apparently, he woke every eight to twelve hours, disoriented, asked again about Tony and Morgan, only to fall asleep moments later and repeat the entire process again in a few hours.

The first time Peter managed to stay awake for more than a few seconds, Tony had taken May’s chair. He was sketching furiously on a Stark-pad, so engrossed that he didn’t notice that Peter had woken until Peter spoke.

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony’s head jerked up and Peter watched the emotions flicker over his face before Tony kicked them down and forced his expression into something casual. He clicked his tongue.

“Come on, kid, I thought we finally moved past the whole “Mr. Stark” stage.”

“Sorry,” Peter blinked at him slowly. “Tony?”

“Mm?”

“My arm hurts.” Peter told him. Tony huffed an unamused laugh.

“I bet.” 

Peter nodded, letting his eyes slide over to inspect the damage, only to stall when he encountered… nothing. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t understand. Tony looked up at the sharp gasp and was out of his chair in an instant. His hands went to Peter’s cheeks, tugging his face away from the sight.

“Don’t look,” Tony ordered, but it was too late. Peter couldn’t breathe.

“My arm-” he stammered. He’d seen it, he’d seen the way his shoulder ended in a mass of white bandages, but if he didn’t look, he swore he could still feel it. 

“It’s ok,” Tony said firmly, holding Peter’s face tighter, but Peter was still gasping. His vision blurred and he realized he was crying again. “Hey, look at me, Pete, just look at me.”

“My arm-” he cried again. He knew he was still out of it, probably doped up on painkillers strong enough to knock out the Hulk, but that didn’t stop him from begging. “I need- Make them give it back, Mr. Stark- Tony!”

If he hadn’t been experiencing the panic attack of a lifetime, Peter might have caught Tony’s heartbroken expression before he gently pulled him closer, pushing Peter's face into his chest to keep him from looking again. 

“It’s gonna be ok.” Tony promised, but Peter shook his head. 

“ _ Spider-Man _ ,” he tried to explain, even as exhaustion hit him again. He couldn’t swing through the city on one arm and he couldn’t be Spider-Man without swinging. What was he if not Spider-Man?

\--

The next time Peter woke, neither May nor Tony were there. Peter frowned as he blinked awake. His stomach rolled at the memory of his last wakeful moments. He hoped, desperately, that it was a nightmare, but when he checked, Peter found himself the same as before: down one arm. And his dominant arm at that. Peter swallowed hard.

“You awake there, son?” 

Peter slowly turned his head to find Captain America at his bedside. Though, he didn’t really look like the Captain America from his school’s PSA videos. He looked tired. Older somehow, for all that he wasn’t grey-haired or wrinkled. 

“Captain Rogers,” Peter croaked. “And… the wizard?”

“Dr. Strange,” the wizard corrected. Steve reached over to his bedside table and produced a water bottle. Peter fumbled with it, still shaky and disoriented (and using his non-dominant hand), but the Captain didn’t try to hold the bottle for him, which Peter appreciated. He wasn’t a baby.

“Where’s May? And Mr. Stark?” He asked after he’d slaked his thirst. 

“Your aunt it just through there,” Steve nodded toward a door, “They’ve got a cot set up for her. And Tony… Tony’s still in his lab.”

From the heavy sigh Steve gave, Peter guessed it was one of Tony's seventy-two hour tech binges. He frowned at that. One would  _ think _ that after a near death experience, the man  _ might _ try to spend some time with his family.

Almost as soon as Peter thought it, his thoughts jumped, tangling and fighting to be heard all at once and Peter flinched, shutting his eyes abruptly.

“Hey, take it easy,” Steve said sharply. “Not all at once, ok?”

“What’s wrong with my head?” Peter groaned. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was incredibly overwhelming. It reminded him a bit of when he’d first gotten bit by the spider, only without the migraines. 

“You’re just remembering,” The wizard assured him. “Adjusting to the new reality you’ve created.”

“I did-  _ what _ ?”

“As I’ve been trying to explain,” Strange said with a pointed look at Steve, “You have experienced  _ pure _ time travel, which can only be accomplished with the Stone.”

“I thought Mr. Stark invented time travel?”

“Tony invented dimension hopping,” Strange waved a hand dismissively. “Really, it’s much closer to what the Reality or Space Stone are capable of. And it’s significantly more dangerous.”

“Oh,” Peter said. It wasn’t so bad if he didn’t try to remember anything, if he just tried to focus on what the wizard was saying (though, to be fair, that didn’t make all that much sense either). 

“ _ Tony’s method _ ,” Strange said derisively, as though Tony should have known better when inventing groundbreaking inter-dimensional technology that literally no one else had managed before. “Tony’s method spawns an uncharted number of alternate timelines because it dips into different dimensions, rather than  _ actually _ going back through our own. Really, the number of apocalypses he probably caused while trying to rectify our own dimension hardly bears thinking about.”

The longer Strange spoke, the more agitated he became and the more Peter’s head felt like it was buzzing.

“Doctor,” Steve warned. Strange rolled his eyes, but pulled himself back on track.

“What  you and Miss Morgan have experienced, however, is _genuine_ time travel: moving back and forth through our own universe. A  _ much _ more practical way of doing things.” Strange sniffed. 

“Okay?” Peter said, wondering if the man had a point besides ridiculing Tony’s inventions. 

“Because, as I was saying, Time (at least, how the Stone wields it) knows how to protect itself. You appear to have altered certain events, for sure, but you were never in danger of, say, collapsing the universe or creating a time paradox or undoing your own existence. Time would never allow you to make such ripples.”

“That's… good?”

“Indeed. The trouble, of course, is that your mind must now integrate your lived experience with the experience of your old timeline. Since you are the same physical body, you are in the unique predicament of having  _ psychically _ been in multiple places at once.”

Peter blinked hard, but was eventually forced to admit that he just didn’t understand what Strange was talking about in the end. Then he gasped.

“Morgan was with me! Is she ok? Is she all-- integrated?”

“Luckily, very little was changed in Morgan’s personal timeline. In fact, the only difference she’s said she recalls is what she was told after the final battle.”

Peter slumped back against his pillows in relief. If he was having this much trouble, he could only imagine how much more difficult it would be for a four-year-old. 

“What was the difference?” He asked after a moment’s consideration.

“In our current timeline, Morgan was told that Tony went missing from the battlefield and had not been recovered. In what I suspect was your original timeline, she was told that he was killed. Her motive for picking up the time stone in the first place, and thus triggering the events of your recent journey, remained the same. Like I said, Time protects itself. Whatever you’d done in your travels, you would always have created a reason for Morgan to pick up the stone, since she’d already done it.”

Peter blinked hard as the memories filtered back to him, layered on top of one another. First of Tony’s face, still and blank in death. But he also remembered looking around the battlefield for Mr. Stark, grinning and eager to tell him that they’d won, only to find that he had vanished. They hadn’t found a trace of him, not even a broken piece of his armor. And then, finally, there was the memory of grabbing onto Tony and praying, desperately, that he’d come with him when they returned to the future. 

Peter closed his eyes again, rubbing them with the heel of his lone hand. 

“Just try to take it slow,” Steve told him. “One thing at a time. If there’s anything you’re confused about, just ask one of us.”

“You remember both?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Not yet,” Steve admitted. “I was using Tony’s device. The current timeline is new to me. But now that I’m here… Dr. Strange has offered to help me integrate my memories too. I’ll know soon enough.”

\--

Peter remembered. 

He remembered and remembered and remembered.

He remembered Tony appearing in May’s apartment with a black eye and an invitation to Berlin. He remembered Tony bright-eyed, brimming with anticipation, with an invitation to intern for him personally.

He remembered Berlin. He remembered Captain America throwing an entire loading gate at him. He remembered Tony taking him to see the Brandenburg Gate and eat currywurst between meetings with tech giants. 

He remembered Tony not speaking to him for months after Siberia. He remembered Tony calling his cellphone to tease him about something Peter had just tweeted. He remembered trying to figure out how to use Karen and the suit on his own, trying desperately to be good enough as Spider-Man for Tony to acknowledge him again. He remembered weekends at the compound where there was always a rotation of heroes coming and going.

He remembered watching parts of the debate about what to do with the Rogue Avengers, now that they were fugitives from the American government. He remembered Tony taking him on long weekends to Wakanda, leaving him and Shuri to their own devices while Tony and Steve strategized over where to put the next Avengers outpost. He remembered Tony freezing for a moment any time someone mentioned Steve’s name, and being invited to join Pepper and Tony at their huge dining table in their empty house. He remembered enormous dinners outdoors in upstate New York or Birnin Zana or Malibu, where they could barely find tables large enough to seat everyone and it was hard to hear anyone over the din of it all.

He remembered being invited to be a groomsman at a wedding he didn’t live long enough to see. He remembered Titan. That much, at least, remained the same. 

He remembered Tony’s funeral. He remembered being told that Black Widow was dead. And he remembered the emptiness of hearing that Tony was missing, not even confirmed dead. He remembered being told that Wanda was gone, that she and Clint had gone for the Soul Stone and refused to make a sacrifice. How she’d fought the guardian and won. How the Stone demanded a new guardian to replace the one that Wanda had defeated, and how she had 'earned' that dubious right with her victory.

He remembered and remembered and remembered.

\--

It was a good thing that Peter was basically an extrovert, because he was rarely alone in his room after that. May was almost always there, of course, but Morgan (and as a result, Pepper) came often as well. Even Happy regularly lurked in a corner pretending to ignore them. 

Peter was grateful for them, but he’d somewhat expected them to be there. It was everyone else he found surprising. What Peter simultaneously remembered as Tony’s funeral and a joint memorial for all their unburied losses meant that the crowd was huge. Besides the unofficial Parker-Stark-Potts household, Peter was visited by a rotating cast of nearly everyone who’d come.

Ms. Carol came and they compared scars left from wielding the Stones. Dr. Strange stopped by regularly to “ensure that his mind was still sound.” _Sergeant_ _Barnes_ came by to shyly offer support if he wanted to talk about suddenly finding himself an amputee. Shuri lounged on his bed and skyped with MJ and Ned with him (if you could call it skyping when it was done on such a high-tech platform). Natasha awkwardly thanked him for preventing her from becoming a casualty of the Soul Stone, even if she missed Wanda desperately. Rhodes popped in every so often, claiming that he had to give Tony status reports on Peter every few hours or the man would combust.

That would have been funny except that Tony hadn’t been back to see him since the day Peter discovered his arm was missing. Steve also hadn’t returned.

“What if he’s mad? What if he liked the other timeline better? He’s the only one besides me that remembers it!” Peter moaned. He knew it was sort of unlikely. Personally, Peter thought Steve’s current timeline (the one where he and T’challa had founded the second Avengers compound in Wakanda, where he stayed friends with Tony and had exactly zero governments after him) was much preferable to the old timeline, but what did Peter know?

Shuri made eye contact with May and both women began to giggle.

“What?” Peter whined. Shuri made a show of looking casually at her nails, but she was grinning far too smuggly.

“It seems our dear Captain never professed the  _ depths _ of his emotions to Sergeant Barnes in his original timeline. Apparently he’s been quite…  _ overwhelmed _ .”

“In a bad way?” Peter was aghast. He hadn’t known there was anything between the two. He hadn’t even known Cap was queer. Then again, now that he thought about it, ditching everything you know and love and going on the run for your one ride or die bro was pretty gay. Didn't excuse Siberia, but Peter could appreciate the gall. Still! What if  _ this _ Steve didn’t feel that way but this Barnes did??

“Only in that he’s beating himself up for not realizing it was mutual in his original timeline.” Shuri assured him. “I wasn’t supposed to hear this, but apparently he thought it was one-sided and had some hair brained scheme to leave his poor boy here in the future while he went back to… somewhere. I don’t know. I stopped listening around the time Barnes started crying about how he was in love with an idiot.”

That got Peter to laugh. It had been several days by now and he was proud to say that laughing was only a  _ little _ painful. He wasn’t sure how close to death he’d come, and frankly he was ashamed to ask. It was a terrible thing to be  _ glad _ of anyone dying, but Peter was glad that May hadn’t had to hear the news that he’d been ‘dusted,’ and it was a relief to find that he and Ned and MJ and Shuri were all still the same age. It would have been a real bummer if someone had graduated without the rest of them.

But Tony… Peter knew he  _ had _ forced Tony to go through that. And the guilt was nearly overwhelming to realize that he’d almost made Tony go through it  _ again _ . After everything he and Morgan had gone through to get Tony back, Peter longed to see him, but Tony still hadn’t come out of his lab.

He waited until Shuri had left to ask May about it. 

“Is Tony mad at me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” May said quickly. She’d pulled her chair close to his bed and she smoothed the hair back from his forehead now. “Why would you think that?”

Peter shrugged, trying to downplay the pit of guilt tugging at his stomach. “He just… hasn’t been around. I mean, I know he’s busy, I’m not blaming him or anything. I wouldn’t blame him if he  _ was _ mad.”

“What on earth would he have to be mad at you about?” May asked and Peter appreciated this about her. She could be furious at him, so angry she couldn’t even look at him, and she’d still think anyone  _ else _ who had a problem with him was nuts. 

“I dunno. I took the Stone, I guess... May?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry,” Peter said softly. He reached up with his good hand to hold hers. She didn’t smell quite like herself when she hugged him - she’d been sleeping on the hospital cot and using hospital soap for the last few days - but the hug still felt just right. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t even mean to do it, I promise. I really- I mean, I wanted to do it, but I  _ wouldn’t _ have. I know it’s hard for you and after- after… I just, I wouldn’t do that to you. I mean, I didn’t want to. I’m sorry.”

May continued to hug him around the shoulders, only hushing him when Peter started to talk himself in circles. 

“I know,” she promised. “I’m not mad. I mean, you scared the  _ bejeezus _ out of me and I hope you never do that again, but… it was really brave. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, May,” Peter sighed, trying to let the comfort sink into his skin and only partially succeeding. May was quiet for a moment, she but couldn’t quite leave it at that.

“He  _ better _ not be mad at you.” She grumbled. “If he is, I swear, I’ll rip off  _ his _ arm and beat  _ him _ with it.”

“May!”

“Sorry, sweetie, too soon with the arm jokes?”

Surprisingly, it was not too soon.

\--

Tony emerged from his lab the following day.

As far as Peter could tell, Tony didn’t stop for food or a shower or even a change of clothes before he headed for Peter’s room. He appeared quite suddenly in the doorway that morning with huge bags under his eyes and five ‘o'clock shadow on his jaw. He balanced Morgan on one hip and carried a large case in the other hand. 

All the teariness Peter had seen over their strange sojourn had vanished from Morgan’s face and she grinned as soon as she saw Peter, wriggling to be let down. She made a beeline for Peter’s bed, clambering up and onto his lap in a flash. 

“Daddy’s out!” She announced happily and Peter found that her smile was contagious. 

“Hey,” Tony said, following Morgan, though he perched at the end of Peter’s bed instead of throwing himself on Peter’s lap, which Peter appreciated. “Come on, Barnes, stop skulking around and say ‘hi.’”

For the first time, Peter noticed that Barnes had been trailing behind Tony and Morgan looking as sheepish as ever. For someone reported to be the world’s deadliest, most prolific assassin, Barnes gave off the decided air of someone who would probably apologize to you if  _ you _ stepped on _his_ foot. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” Peter grinned. Barnes winced.

“Please, call me Bucky,” he said, though his expression made it look like a plea. 

“Bucky,” Peter nodded before turning back to Mr. Stark. “What’s in the box?”

“It’s a surprise!” Morgan crowed, nearly singing the words.

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“You have to open it! Come on, Daddy, show him!”

“You know, actually, I don’t think it’s ready yet,” Tony said suddenly, looking about as nervous as Peter had ever seen him. “I think I’m gonna take it back down to the lab and make a few more tweaks. Really make sure it’s perfect.”

“Daddy!” Morgan whined. 

“Come on, Stark. You can haul the kid in for upgrades as soon as he’s back on his feet.” Barnes agreed. Peter tilted his head in question and hoped Mr. Stark wouldn’t bolt and take the case with him. He actually looked like he might do it too.

After another moment’s deliberation, Tony scooted Morgan out of the way so he could set the case on Peter’s lap. It actually looked a little like an instrument case, probably for something a little bigger than a trumpet but smaller than a trombone.

“How’d you know I played brass in middle school?” Peter teased.

“Don’t be a smart ass, Parker,” Tony warned. He ignored Morgan giggling and whispering ‘smart ass’ to herself in favor of giving him a genuinely nervous glance. “Look, tell me if it’s too soon, ok? You don’t have to use it. No pressure. Zero percent obligations.”

“Mr. Stark-  _ Tony _ , I can’t decide if I don’t know what it is!” 

“Right, right, right. Ugh. Here.” Tony flapped a hand at Morgan who gleefully undid the clasp and threw the case open proudly. 

Peter didn’t know why the prosthetic surprised him. Really, it was pretty obvious if he thought about it, but somehow it really hadn’t occurred to Peter. It was still easier to imagine that Tony was  _ mad _ at him than it was to imagine him slaving away for nearly four days straight on a gift for him. 

The arm was sleek black. Peter couldn’t tell if it was metal or plastic or something else completely. The elbow, wrist, and fingers were all articulated with some kind of ball joint and Peter found he kind of liked that it wasn’t trying to look life-like. Shit, if he was going to have a sick robot arm, he wanted a sick robot arm! Not some weird simulation bullshit, like how they’d done for Luke and Anakin’s hands in Star Wars. What a cop out.

“Watch this!” Morgan gushed as she reached into the case to manipulate the hand. She folded the middle two fingers down, and for a moment Peter worried the thing would start spitting webs. Instead, the surface rippled and shifted color and texture like some kind of freaky (awesome) technological octopus mimic, and Peter was suddenly staring at the sleeve and glove of his spider-suit. If he was wearing it, Peter felt sure the prosthetic would be indistinguishable. 

“I was originally going to make two,” Tony said quickly. “One for you and one for Spider-Man, but then I realized that it would be a pain to switch out every time you wanted to change. Plus it would be way too suspicious if you  _ and _ Spidey both got prosthetics at the same time, I mean, people are stupid, but those conspiracy nuts pick up on  _ everything _ , lemme tell you. I’m thinking about embedding web shooters. I bet we could get a nearly  _ endless _ supply of web fluid stored inside the forearm if we do it right. Save your old man the fear that you’re going to run out mid-swing. Or maybe we could get Karen hooked up? That way you’d always have access to her. Or is that an invasion of privacy? Maybe just a regular phone. I could make it so you just have to hold your hand in the phone shape to pick up, you know. I bet Fred would get a kick out of that. Though, you’re gonna have to be extra careful around electrical wires. Damn, I hadn’t thought about that. Don’t get any electric-themed villains until I work out the grounding issues, ok? I mean. If you end up using it.”

Tony ended up talking so quickly that Peter almost couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t until he took a deep breath to continue that Peter realized he’d just been staring at Tony without speaking. 

“Of course, I wanna use it!” He blurted out. Tony stopped short, blinking at him.

“You do?”

“Yeah!” Peter said, running a finger along the length of the prosthetic in awe. It wasn’t the arm he was excited about, really. Well, it was, but only because… Spider-Man. Peter had been trying not to think about it since that first night, but he’d subconsciously been bracing himself against the day he was forced to accept that his time as Spider-Man was behind him. Peter had lost  _ people _ before, he understood how to grieve for others, but he’d never learned how to grieve for himself. He didn’t have the language to express what it would have been like to have to abandon that part of himself. 

Peter blinked hard to keep his eyes from watering with relief. Tony too gave a sigh that told Peter that more had been riding on this for Tony than he tried to let on. 

“Good. That’s- good.” He said shortly, clearing his throat while Morgan laughed at him. “It’s definitely not a final product and I’m thinking we’re probably going to need some kind of base in your shoulder to attach the arm to, but that’s a surgical modification, so we  _ definitely _ need to talk to May about that.”

“Talk to May about what?” 

Of course, May reappeared at this particular moment. Her hair was a little wind-swept and she carried a to-go tray of coffee cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other. It was the first time that Peter had been able to convince her to step outside all week, and now even a brief Starbucks run felt like an epic journey compared to the endless rounds of cafeteria trips just downstairs. 

“May!” Peter grinned. “Look!”

May handed her parcels off to Barnes and came to inspect the case on Peter’s lap. She actually  _ gasped _ when she saw it.

“Oh, Tony, this is- this is too-” She started saying before she caught herself. May swallowed, coughed, folded her arms across her chest and turned up her nose. “Well, it’s really the least he could do after everything you’ve done for him.”

“May!” Peter whined. He knew that she was (kind of, sort of, only a little) joking, but Mr. Stark had sagged at her comment. May dropped her arms and her defensive air.

“Thank you.” She said, earnest now. Tony ducked his head. 

“No, you’re right. It’s the least I can do.”

“Now you and Bucky can match!” Morgan piped up, the tension sailing straight over her head. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Barnes confirmed, passing Morgan the paper bag. She nearly tore it open in her eagerness.

“Ooo! Donut-holes!” She all but squealed, shoving one in her mouth immediately before she remembered to offer one to Peter. 

“Hey, what did your mom say about sweets this early?” Tony sighed.

“Nothin’” Morgan said through a mouthful of donut, “Mommy didn’ say anything because she got meetings all morning.”

“Sneaky,” Tony raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed with her logic despite the obvious undermining of their parental authority.

The five of them broke for coffee and donut holes. Morgan remained in charge of the pastries, somberly distributing them evenly, only pausing to try to work out how to divide three left-over donut-holes between five people. Peter did his best to encourage her while Tony launched into a long explanation for May of how he hoped to install the new arm. May interrupted every few seconds with a question, her professional background showing through in the thoroughness she demanded from Tony.

“Does it hurt?” Peter asked Bucky quietly, when he was sure everyone else was sufficiently distracted. Barnes looked solemn for a moment before he shook his head.

“Stark won’t let it.” He said firmly. “It’s hard to get used to. It’ll be sore for a while afterward, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

Peter nodded, trying to let himself be consoled despite his sudden nerves. 

“Plus, once you’re done with your PT, you’ll have pecs so big you’ll need a bra.” Barnes said it with such a serious straight face that it took several seconds for Peter to register it and start laughing.

“What? What is it? What’s funny?” Morgan demanded, which only sent Peter into peels of helpless giggles. 

“Barnes, you broke my favorite intern,” Tony complained, but now that he’d started, Peter could not stop laughing.

Everything was going to be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter is just a little epilogue and then it's a wrap!


	6. Epilogue

One Year Later:

None of the parties Peter now remembered even came close to rivaling the celebration at New Asgard, and that was saying something, considering that many of those parties had been thrown by Tony Stark himself. 

Part of it was the sheer size of the festivities. Tables had been set up in the great hall at the center of Asgard’s new settlement, but the party spilled out into the surrounding streets and all the way down to the docks. 

The majority of the guests were, naturally, Asgardian refugees since Thor had decided to play host, but the turn out for everyone else was still impressive. The original Avengers - Tony, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Bruce, and Clint - were there of course, as were the more recent additions of Sam, Scott, and Bucky. All of these people, of course, brought their families, so that Pepper, Morgan, Hope, Cassie, Hank, Laura, and Clint’s children, Lila, Cooper, and Nate were also present. Tony claimed that Rhodey and Happy were part of his extended family, and that MJ and Ned were part of Peter’s, in addition to May. Even the oft discussed Harley Keener was there.

The Wakandan delegation was even larger; T'Challa and Shuri had brought Nakia and Okoye and a small horde of Dora Milaje, while their mother, Ramonda, kept an eye on the kingdom in their absence. Dr. Strange had also begrudgingly agreed to come on the condition that he could force his friend Wong to suffer through it as well. Wong, in turn, brought several acolytes from the Sanctum.   


Carol even promised to make sure to be in the Milky Way galaxy for the party, and brought her wife and daughter as well. It was Carol who wrangled the so called 'Guardians of the Galaxy' back to Earth as well.  


And those were just the people Peter recognized. There were also the new recruits to Maria Hill's latest S.H.I.E.L.D. program and Fury had brought a large crowd of pointed-eared, hairless, green-skinned folks.

With the party in full swing, the new Asgardian capital looked like a veritable rainbow: dotted with red uniformed Dora Milaje, orange-robed acolytes and clusters of green skinned _aliens,_ punctuated with the occasional flash of a blue cape from the newly reinstated Valkyrie.

It was very lucky that Peter was an extrovert.

Ned stayed glued to Peter’s side, gaping at everything, and looking around so fast that Peter worried his friend would give himself whiplash. In one direction the Dora Milaje were arranging some kind of spear-throwing contest with some of the Asgardian warriors while Thor and T'Challa discussed the role of kingship in modern times. In another direction, Morgan was leading Nate and a gaggle of Asgardian children on some kind of elaborate chase that had them all giggling wildly. In another, Valkyrie was challenging Carol to race her and her winged horse, while Carol’s wife, Maria, and May, and Laura Barton lamented the trials of having superheroes in the family. Pepper, Okoye, and Maria Hill argued the best training strategies for fresh hires, while Natasha, Bucky, and Nakia compared concealed weapons.

Peter was surprised to find a decent amount of people his own age, and the lot of them naturally gravitated together until there was a crowd of them lounging around the docks. Cassie and Harley discovered they were both headed to Columbia in the fall, while Shuri scoffed at them because she already  _ had _ an honorary degree. MJ coaxed a blue-skinned cybernetic girl into their circle. Nebula was a little older than them and seemed tense until Peter remarked how cool her robotic arm was and showed her his own. 

With so many teenagers clustered together, trouble was inevitable and it only took the seven of them about twenty minutes to commandeer one of the Asgardian fishing boats and push off to float around the little harbor. It was barely more than a dingy, and  _ crowded _ with so many of them. The boat rocked dangerously every time any of them so much as coughed. It wasn’t long before the boat spilled them all into the water, shrieking and splashing.

“Thank god Tony waterproofed my arm,” Peter said as they pulled themselves back onto the wharf, dripping and laughing (except for Nebula, who only gave the tiniest of smirks). “Otherwise I’d probably have fried the whole harbor and us too.”

“Bright side: you coulda fried the fish too,” Harley said. “Any of y’all ever tried fried catfish?”

Dinner, when it was served, was positively medieval. Only with actual flavor and spices and probably a lot less salmonella involved. There were a number of enormous roasted beasts, including what looked like an entire boar and a stag, piles of vegetables, bread so fresh that the steam scalded Peter’s fingers when he tore into it, and platters of smoked fish and fresh cheese besides. 

Peter found himself wedged peacefully between Tony and May on a long bench while they ate. Morgan had draped herself over Tony’s shoulders, apparently exhausted from the afternoon, and only occasionally demanded the odd tidbit off Tony’s plate rather than try to manage a plate of her own. She huffed in annoyance when Tony became too engrossed in his conversation with Steve across the table to pay much attention to her, and Peter started feeding her bites off his own plate instead.

“Come on,” Peter coaxed, waving a piece of roasted carrot in front of her. “Veggies give you superpowers!”

“No they don’t,” Morgan scoffed. 

“Maybe, but are you really willing to risk missing out?”

Morgan considered for a moment before opening her mouth obediently while Peter snickered. 

“I’m just saying, we don’t have any real contacts in India yet,” Tony said across the table.

“That’s exactly why we need to start reaching out!” Steve insisted. “It’s one point three  _ billion _ people again and we don’t have  _ anything _ ? That’s just unacceptable.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever set anything up in India, just that we should make headway with the contacts we’ve got first. China  _ also _ has one point three billion people and we already know they’ve got a burgeoning super-scene. We need to reach out now so that the global super-hero front is united. If we wait, we’ll just end up divided and the  _ last _ thing the world needs is a conflict between enhanced individuals.” Tony huffed. 

“You sound like you’ve already got someone in mind.”

“Not exactly. Just keeping an ear out. Lately, we’ve been hearing about a lot of activity from someone called Shang-Chi, and I think it’s worth looking into.” Tony said. 

“I mean, we  _ should _ ,” Steve agreed, “But that doesn’t mean we’ve gotta get an outpost going there. The wizards already have a sanctuary in Hong Kong.”

“The  _ wizards _ only keep tabs on extraterrestrial threats,” Tony pointed out. “That was the only reason Strange got involved last time. I’m pretty sure anything less than a full scale invasion will leave them twiddling their thumbs about it. Besides, do you even know anyone in India?”

“Not exactly,” Steve parroted. “But  _ my _ ears have been hearing a lot of activity from a Neal Shaara, and I think that’s worth looking into as well.”

“Fine, we’ll look into both of them and we’ll go with whichever of them is more receptive to the idea,” Tony proposed. Steve sighed.

“No, you’re right about the danger of staying divided. We’ll go with whoever is  _ less _ receptive.”

“Deal.”

“No business at the dinner table,” Bucky grumbled from beside Steve, putting down another slice of mystery-animal on Steve’s plate. Steve had been so caught up in the discussion that he’d been shoveling food in his mouth mindlessly and didn’t seem to realize that this was the fourth such slice that Bucky had snuck him. 

“Here here,” May said, effectively breaking up the debate. “Are you excited about first grade next fall, Morgan?”

“Mmhm! Daddy made me a pencil case that can recognize thirty different types of threats and send a signal from a hundred feet underground!” Morgan boasted.

“Not that he’s  _ worried _ , or anything,” Pepper rolled her eyes, though her smile was a little tight. 

There had been a million things to take care of in the last year and given what everyone had been through, Tony and Pepper had elected to keep Morgan home instead of immediately sending her to kindergarten. Now, however, with her sixth birthday looming in a few months, a decision had to be made about whether to send her to a private school, a public school, or to keep her home completely. 

It wasn’t as straight-forward as it sounded. For one thing, Morgan was already showing an aptitude for math and science that rivaled her father’s, and she could easily have kept up with middle school classes in that respect. But socially, she was still only five, and Tony was painfully aware of what it was like to be forced out of your age group so young. Then there were Tony’s enemies to consider, some of whom had probably recently come back in the un-dusting. Anywhere outside the house had security risks, but they were also hesitant to keep Morgan locked up Rapunzel style out of fear. In the end they’d left the decision up to Morgan, who had chosen public school for everything except math, which Tony promised to pull her out of so she wouldn’t be bored out of her mind. Morgan, it seemed, had also inherited Tony’s proclivity for causing absolute  _ mayhem _ when she was bored. 

“Can I bring Nate to school with me?” Morgan asked, looking down the table to seek out Clint’s kids. 

“I think it would be a little too far for him to drive to every day,” Pepper told her gently.

“What about every other day?”

“How about we fly out on some of the weekends and go visit him instead?” Tony offered. 

“Yes! Nate said they have goats now. I’ve never met a goat in real life before. Daddy, can we get a goat?” Morgan asked. Tony opened his mouth, looking for all the world like he was about to agree before Pepper cut him off. 

“We’ll think about it.”

“I bet Peter would like it. Right, Peter?” Morgan asked. “We should get a pet!”

Peter’s opinion probably held more weight than he strictly wanted to acknowledge. After Peter had been released from the hospital last year, Tony had had the awkward job of informing them that their old apartment building had been demolished in the years they’d been absent. Tony had managed to save their stuff, putting it in storage and then refusing to deal with it, but their actual home was gone. May had grudgingly agreed to Tony’s offer to stay with him and Pepper ‘just until they could find some place else.’ Of course, once they were there, one month had turned into two had turned into six and May slowly stopped looking at apartment listings.

“You’ve only got one more year of high school after this,” May told him when Peter asked if it was really alright. “It makes you happy. I’ll think about moving again after you leave for college.”

The mention of college had sent Peter into fresh spirals of anxiety. He already felt stretched thin managing Spider-Man and his regular school work and integrating back into a post-dust society and adjusting to the new arm and holding onto his frankly tenuous grip on his mental health. The idea of doing all that, while dealing with a bigger workload, and of doing it away from his family and friends, made Peter feel like he was back under all ten tons of concrete rubble from the Vulture’s warehouse.

It was Tony who noticed, who pulled him aside and awkwardly inquired about the sudden increase of panic attacks. It was Tony who swore up and down that he wasn’t disappointing anyone if he didn’t go straight to college, that he didn’t need a degree to prove he was a genius, that college would still be there when he was ready for it. It was Tony who helped him bring it up to May.

Truthfully, Peter still felt a little self-conscious about the decision. Ned was going to college and he’d been dusted just like Peter. Harley’s whole family had been dusted and he’d had to struggle on his own and  _ he  _ was still going to college. A part of Peter thought he was being stupid and weak, that he should just power through it or his friends would leave him behind. Then he remembered that MJ wasn’t going straight to college either and that Shuri had never been at all, no matter how many honorary degrees she had. 

Besides, Tony had promised to keep him on his toes next year and Peter believed him. The man was  _ mostly _ retired from Iron Man duties, but that didn’t slow him down as an inventor in the least. Plus, it would be nice to keep an eye on Morgan while she got used to public school. 

“Or a  _ puppy! _ ” Morgan gasped, the same way a mad scientist might shout ‘Eureka!’ “Ooh, Peter, tell them we should get a puppy!”

“I dunno, if we’re gonna get a pet I think I’d want a spider,” Peter teased, grinning as Morgan shuddered dramatically.

“Spiders aren’t cute and fluffy though,” She complained. 

“Sure they are. Tarantulas have lots of hair.” Peter crept one hand, spider-like, across Morgan’s arm until she shrieked and flailed and nearly fell off Tony's shoulders.

“No! I don’ wanna cuddle with tarantulas!”

“Oh, but they wanna cuddle with you, Mor-” Peter froze mid-cackle as a familiar shiver raced up his spine. “Tony!”

Tony turned to him as the air near the head of the table shimmered and peeled open. Peter shivered involuntarily, remembering the orange portals that had followed him and Morgan on their uncanny trip through time. Dr. Strange had since explained that the ‘Ancient One’ really had not meant any harm (and that they were dead now besides) but it had still been a frightening experience at the time. Beside him, Tony stiffened, his thoughts clearly following a similar process.

This portal, however, was tinged pale blue. It opened practically on top of where Thor sat at the head of the table and the king was on his feet, calling his weapons to him by the time a pale, haggard looking man stumbled through.

“Brother, come with me,” he demanded even before he’d fully stepped onto the grass. Several of the nearby Asgardians gasped. “Mangog is revived. You must-”

“ _ Loki? _ ”

“Glad you haven’t forgotten me. Now, Mangog-”

“You’re  _ alive? _ ”

Peter watched the exchange with slack-jawed awe. He’d never seen Loki in person, only through a TV screen during news footage of the invasion of New York. He looked a lot less like a god without his helmet and his cape but from the way Thor was gaping at the wan looking man, it must be him. Mostly he just looked like he could use a shower and about a hundred years of sleep.

“Am I  _ alive? _ ” Loki echoed disdainfully. “Imbecile. You absolute  _ buffoon _ . Did you listen to  _ nothing _ I said?”

Thor lowered Stormbreaker, looking almost sheepish, which was certainly a new expression to Peter. 

“ _ Undying _ fealty? The sun will shine on us again? What more must I do to spell it out for you!” 

Peter sat back in his seat with a grin as Thor began fumbling for excuses as to why he had missed the coded message. Whatever the trouble was, it was not so important that Loki could not stop to berate his brother. Even Tony’s shoulders relaxed some as the siblings continued to bicker. 

“Is it always going to be like this?” Tony grumbled to Pepper.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” she said with a slightly patronizing smile and a pat to his arm. 

Peter glanced up and down the table again. Heroes and warriors from across the globe - some from across the galaxy - were still laughing with each other over dinner while the Asgardians gesticulated wildly over the latest development. May and Ned and MJ and Tony and Morgan all watched safely from their seats on the long benches. 

“Daddy, I wanna meet a god,” Morgan said.

“Absolutely not, you’ve already met Thor.”

“No, I wanna meet  _ another _ god!”

If this was what it was ‘always going to be like’, Peter thought, wasn’t going to complain about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you for the support, it's much appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Updates daily this week


End file.
